••f!t'n''"';ff?n!M 


i  ;;<  !  i; 

fii   -;I»H 


i 


THE    LOST   HUNTER, 


THE   LOST   HUNTER 


Cale 


"  And  slill  her  grey  rocks  tower  above  the  sea 

That  murmurs  at  their  foet,  a  conquered  wave ; 
'Tis  a  rough  land  of  earth,  and  stone,  and  tree, 

Where  breathes  no  castled  lord  or  cabined  slave  ; 
Where  thoughts,  and  tongues,  and  hands,  are  bold  and  free, 
And  friends  will  find  a  welcome,  foes  a  grave; 

NV*r  even  then,  unless  in  their  own  WAV." 


NEW  YORK : 
DERBY  &  JACKSON,  119  NASSAU  STREET, 

CINCINNATI  : — H.   W.    DERBY. 
1856. 


•*NTBKKD  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1355,  by 

.1.    C.    DERBY, 
b  *he  Clerk's  Office  «f  Oie  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  frr  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


H.  T,N8o»,  Stereotyper.  V™»™  &  RUSSELL    Printers. 


As  one  might  justly  be  considered  a  clown,  or,  at  least,  not 
well  bred,  who,  without  tapping  at  the  door,  or  making  a  bow, 
or  saying  "  By  your  leave,"  or  some  other  token  of  respect, 
should  burst  in  upon  a  company  of  persons  unknown  to  him, 
and  instead  of  a  welcome  would  deserve  an  unceremonious  invi 
tation  to  betake  himself  elsewhere  forthwith  ;  so,  I  suppose, 
in  presenting  myself  before  you,  my  honored  Public,  it  is  no 
more  than  civil  to  say  something  by  way  of  introduction.  At 
least,  I  have  observed  from  my  obscure  retreat  in  the  quiet 
village  of  Addlebrains,  that  the  fashion  in  this  respect,  which 
has  prevailed,  certainly,  since  the  time  of  St.  Luke,  who  com 
mences  his  Gospel  with  a  preface  to  Theophilus,  has  come  down 
to  the  present  day,  differing  therein  from  other  fashions,  which, 
for  the  most  part,  are  as  transitory  as  the  flowers  of  the  field, 
and  commending  itself  thereby  to  the  thoughtful  consideration  of 
the  judicious  ;  for  it  cannot  be  deemed  there  is  no  value  in  that 


M290384 


yi  APOLOGY. 

which  has  received  the  sanction  of  centuries.  Influenced  by 
reflections  of  this  description  and  the  like,  I  sat  down  one  day 
in  the  little  retreat,  which  the  indulgent  partiality  of  my  friends 
is  accustomed  to  dignify  with  the  title  of  my  "  study,"  to  endea 
vor  to  write  a  preface,  and  introduce  myself  in  a  becoming 
manner  to  my  readers.  I  was  the  more  anxious  to  do  this 
properly,  because,  although  a  mere  countryman,  a  sort  of  cow 
hide  shoe,  as  I  may  say,  and  therefore  lacking  that  gloss, 
which,  like  the  polish  on  a  well-brushed  boot,  distinguishes  and 
illustrates  the  denizens  of  our  metropolis  in  an  eminent  degree, 
as  I  know  from  personal  experience,  having  been  twice  in  New 
York,  and,  as  I  am  told,  also,  the  citizens  of  Boston  and 
Philadelphia,  and  other  provincial  towns,  with  a  milder  lustre,  I 
would  not  like  to  be  supposed  entirely  destitute  of  refinement. 
It  would  be  strange  if  I  were,  inasmuch  as  I  enjoyed  in  my 
youth,  the  privilege  of  two  terms  and  a  half  instruction  in  the 
dancing  school  of  that  incomparable  professor  of  the  Terpsi- 
chorean  science,  the  accomplished  Monsieur  St.  Leger  Pied. 
It  is  in  consequence  of  this  early  training,  perhaps,  that  I  am 
always  pained  when  there  is  any  deflection  or  turning  aside 
from,  or  neglect  of,  the  graceful,  the  becoming,  and  the 
proper. 

It  will  be  observed  that  my  last  quarter  was  cut  short  in  the 
middle  ;  which  untoward  event  arose  from  no  arrogance  or 
supercilious  conceit  on  my  part,  as  though  I  had  perfected 
myself  in  the  mysteries  of  pigeon-wing  and  balancez,  but  from 
the  abrupt  departure  of  the  professor  himself,  who,  true  to  the 


APOLOGY.  Vll 

name  indicative  of  his  constitutional  levity,  found  it  convenient 
to  disappear  betwixt  two  days,  with  the  advance  pay  of  my 
whole  term  in  his  pocket,  and  without  stopping  to  make  even 
one  of  his  uncommonly  genteel  bows.  The  circumstance  was 
peculiarly  disagreeable  to  me,  in  consequence  of  the  school  being 
assembled  when  our  loss  was  discovered,  and  of  my  having 
succeeded  in  engaging,  for  the  greater  part  of  the  evening,  the 
hand  of  a  young  lady,  whose  charms  had  made  a  deep  (though, 
as  subsequent  events  proved,  not  a  durable)  impression  on  my 
susceptible  heart.  Monsieur  was  our  only  musician,  and,  of 
course,  with  his  violin  went  the  dancing.  The  cause  of  his 
evasion  or  flight  was  variously  accounted  for,  some  ascribing  it 
to  a  debt  he  had  contracted  for  kid  gloves  and  pumps,  and 
others  to  dread  of  the  wrath  of  a  young  gentleman,  whose 
sister  he  had  been  so  imprudent  as  to  kiss  in  the  presence  of 
another  girl,  not  remarkable  for  personal  attractions,  to  whom 
he  had  never  paid  the  same  compliment.  As  was  to  be 
expected,  she  was  scandalized  at  the  impropriety  and  want  of 
taste,  and  immediately  made  it  known,  in  spite  of  the  entreaties 
of  the  blushing  beauty  and  the  "pardons"  of  Monsieur.  As 
Yirgilius  has  it, 

"  Manet  alta,  mente  repostum, 
Judicium  Paridis  spretaeque  injuria  formse." 

In  my  opinion,  it  was  the  kiss  that  cost  poor  Monsieur  Pied  his 
school,  and  me  a  dollar  and  a  half,  three  dollars  being  the  price 
for  a  term's  instruction.  Not,  I  beg  to  be  understood,  that  I 
care  anything  about  the  money,  but  in  relating  an  event  I  like 


viii  APOLOGY. 

to  be  circumstantial  and  strictly  accurate.  But  I  find  that, 
wiled  away  by  the  painfully  pleasing  reminiscences  of  my 
youth,  I  am  wandering  from  my  undertaking,  which  is,  not 
to  narrate  the  misadventures  of  a  dancing-master,  but  to  com 
pose  a  preface. 

I  had  seated  myself,  as  I  was  saying,  in  my  little  den  or  con- 
fugium,  where,  as  in  a  haven  of  rest,  I  love  to  hide  myself  from 
the  distractions  of  the  world,  and  concentrate  my  thoughts,  and 
which  has  been  to  me  the  scene  of  many  sad  as  well  as  pleasant 
hours,  and  dipped  my  goose  quill  (anathema  maranatha  on  steel 
pens,  which  I  cannot  help  fancying,  impart  a  portion  of  their 
own  rigidity  to  style,  for  if  the  stylus  be  made  of  steel  is  it 
not  natural  that  the  style  by  derivation  and  propinquity  should 
be  hard  ?)  into  the  inkstand,  after  first  casting  my  eyes  on  the 
busts  of  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  which,  cast  in  plaster,  adorn 
my  retirement,  half  imploring  them  to  assist  in  so  important  an 
enterprise,  when  the  door  opened,  and  who  should  enter  but  my 
dear  friend,  the  Rev.  Increase  Grace  ?  But  here  let  me  remark 
parenthetically,  the  habit  of  dealing  in  parentheses  being  one  I 
especially  dislike,  only  necessity  compelling  me  thereto,  and 
before  I  proceed  further,  that  the  word  "  confugium,"  which, 
both  on  account  of  its  terse  expressiveness,  as  well  as  its 
curiosa  felidtas  in  the  present  application,  I  have  chosen  in  order 
to  define  my  den,  has  not,  I  hope,  escaped  the  notice  of  the 
discriminating  scholar.  Moreover,  I  trust  that  I  shall  not 
incur  the  imputation  of  vanity  if  I  take  to  myself  some  little 
credit  for  the  selection.  It  will  be  observed  that  it  is  a  com- 


A  P'O  L  o  G  y .  ix 

pound  term,  the  latter  part,  "  fugium  "  (from  fuga.  flight),  cha 
racterizing  the  purpose  to  which  my  secluded  nook  is  applied  as 
a  refuge,  whither  I  fly  from  the  unmeaning  noise  and  vanity  of 
the  world;  and  the  prefix,  "con"  (equivalent  to  cum,  with), 
conveying  the  idea  of  its  social  designation.  For  I  should  be 
loth  to  have  it  thought  that,  like  Charles  Lamb's  rat,  who,  by 
good  luck,  happening  to  find  a  Cheshire  cheese,  kept  the  disco 
very  a  profound  secret  from  the  rest  of  the  rats,  in  order  to 
monopolize  the  delicious  dainty,  pretending  all  the  while  that 
his  long  and  frequent  absences  at  a  certain  hole  were  purely  for 
purposes  of  heavenly  contemplation,  his  mind  having  of  late 
become  seriously  impressed,  and,  therefore,  he  could  not  bear 
interruption,  I  am  in  the  habit  of  ensconcing  myself  with 
a  selfish  exclusion  therein.  Far  from  it :  the  door  is  never 
barred  against  admission,  and  my  confugium  rather  means 
(though  the  dictionaries  with  their  usual  vagueness  so  much  to 
be  lamented,  have  not  succeeded  in  eviscerating  its  full  significa 
tion)  a  common  place  of  retirement  for  myself  and  intimate 
friends.  Hence  it  was  not  as  an  intrusion,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
as  an  acceptable  call,  that  I  greeted  the  arrival  of  Increase. 
There  must  have  been  an  unusual  degree  of  gravity  in  my  coun 
tenance  corresponding  with  the  importance  of  the  work  I  was 
about  to  undertake,  for  the  reverend  gentleman  had  hardly 
taken  a  seat  before  he  observed  it,  and  inquired  into  its  cause. 
We  are  upon  that  footing  of  intimacy,  that  there  was  no  impro 
priety  in  the  question,  and  I  unhesitatingly  acquainted  him 
with  my  purpose. 

1* 


X  APOLOGY. 

"  I  should  as  soon  think,"  said  the  Rev.  Increase,  "  of  build 
ing  a  verandah  before  a  wood-house,  or  putting  mahogany  doors 
into  my  old  toppling  down  church." 

The  remark  was  not  very  complimentary,  but  great  freedom 
of  speech  prevails  between  us,  and  I  took  no  offence  ;  especially 
as  I  knew  that  the  Rev.  gentleman  was  smarting  under  a  disap 
pointment  in  the  sale  of  a  volume  of  sermons,  whence  he  had 
expected  great  things,  from  the  publication  of  which  I  had 
vainly  endeavored  to  dissuade  him,  and  whose  meagre  proceeds 
fully  justified  my  forebodings.  The  mention  of  my  work  natur 
ally  recalled  this  afflictive  dispensation,  and  hinc  ilia  lacrimce. 
Reading  his  mind,  I  answered,  therefore,  as  gently  as  a  slight 
tremor  in  my  voice  would  allow,  that  there  was  no  accounting 
for  tastes,  and  that  as  trifling  a  thing  as  a  song  had  been  known 
to  outlive  a  sermon. 

I  declare  I  meant  no  harm,  but  his  reverence  (one  of  the  best 
men  in  the  world,  but  who,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  belongs 
to  the  "  church  militant,")  mstantly  blazed  up — 

"  I  dare  say,"  he  said,  bitterly,  "  that  you  understand  the 
frippery  taste  of  this  trivial  age  better  than  I.  A  capability 
to  appreciate  solid  reading,  reading  that  cultivates  the  under 
standing  while  it  amends  the  heart,  seems  to  be  with  the  for 
gotten  learning  before  the  flood.  They  who  pander  to  this  dis 
eased  appetite  have  much  to  answer  for  ;  not/'  he  was  pleased 
to  add — his  indignation  cooling  off  like  a  steam-boiler  which  has 
found  vent,  "  that  the  trifle  on  which  for  the  last  few  months 
you  have  been  wasting  your  time  has  not  a  certain  kind  of 


APOLOGY.  Xi 

merit,  but  it  seerns  a  pity,  that  one,  capable  of  better  things, 
should  so  miserably  misapply  his  powers." 

These  sentiments  were  not  entirely  new  to  me,  else  I  might 
have  become  a  little  excited  ;  for,  during  the  whole  time  while  I 
was  engaged  in  the  composition  of  the  work,  my  friend,  who  is, 
also,  in  the  habit  of  communicating  his  literary  enterprises  to 
me,  would  insist  upon  my  reading  him  the  chapters,  as  fast  as 
they  came  along,  manifesting  no  little  curiosity  in  the  manner  in 
which  I  should  disengage  myself  from  difficulties  in  which  he 
supposed  me  from  time  to  time  involved,  and  exuberant  delight 
at  the  ingenious  contrivances,  as,  in  a  complimentary  mood,  he 
once  said,  by  which  I  eluded  them.  It  is  true,  all  this  betrayal 
of  interest  was  accompanied  by  various  pishes  and  pshaws,  and 
lamentations  over  the  trifling  character  of  my  pursuits  ;  but, 
like  too  many  others,  both  in  his  cloth  and  out  of  it,  his  conduct 
contradicted  his  language,  and  I  was  encouraged  by  the  former, 
while  I  only  smiled  at  the  latter. 

"  If  such  be  your  opinion,"  said  I,  suddenly  seizing  the  manu 
script,  which  lay  before  me,  and  making  a  motion  to  throw  it 
into  the  fire  ;  "  if  such  be  your  candid  opinion,  I  had  better 
destroy  the  nonsense  at  once." 

11  Hold  1"  cried  the  Rev.  Increase,  arresting  my  hand,  "you 
are  shockingly  touchy  and  precipitate  ;  how  often  have  I  cau 
tioned  you  against  this  trait  of  your  character.  Because  your 
workliug  does  not  deserve  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  category 
with  works  of  solid  and  acknowledged  merit,  like,  for  instance, 
Rollin's  Ancient  History  or  Prideaux'  Connexion,  and  can,  at 


Xll  APOLOGY. 

best,  enjoy  but  an  ephemeral  existence,  does  it  deserve  to  have 
no  existence  at  all  ?  On  your  principle,  we  should  have  no 
butterflies,  because  their  careless  lives  last  but  a  day." 

"  Well,  Increase,"  said  I,  "  if,  like  the  butterfly,  whose  short 
and  erratic  presence  imparts  another  beauty  to  green  fields  and 
blue  skies,  and  blossoms,  and  songs  of  birds,  my  little  book  shall 
be  able  to  seduce  a  smile  to  the  lips,  or  cheat  away  a  pain  from 
the  bosom  of  one  of  those  whom  you  are  so  fond  of  calling 
'  pilgrims  through  a  dreary  wilderness/  I  shall  feel  amply  com 
pensated  for  the  waste  of  my  time." 

"  If  your  expectations  are  so  moderate,  I  see  no  harm  in  your 
indulging  them/7  said  my  friend  ;  "but  I  cannot  help  wishing 
you  had  oftener  taken  my  advice  in  its  composition." 

"  I  have  great  respect  for  your  opinion,"  I  answered,  "  but  I 
find  it  impossible  to  pass  the  ideas  of  another  through  the  cruci 
ble  of  my  mind  and  do  them  justice.  Somehow  or  other,  when  I 
am  expecting  a  stream  of  gold,  it  turns  out  a  caput  mortuum  of 
lead.  No,  my  better  course  is  to  coin  my  copper  in  my  own 
way.  But,  tell  me  frankly,  what  offends  you." 

My  Rev.  friend  had,  by  this  time,  forgotten  his  unfortunate 
volume  of  sermons,  and  resumed  his  good  nature. 

"Offends  me?  my  dear  friend,  and  half-parishoner  (for  I 
notice  a  bad  habit  you  have  got  into,  of  late,  of  attending 
church  only  in  the  morning — pray  reform  it),  you  use  a  very 
harsh  term.  There  is  nothing  in  the  book  that  offends  me  ; 
although,"  he  added,  cautiously,  "I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  I 
sanction  entirely  either  your  religious,  philosophical,  or  political 


APOLOGY.  xiii 

speculations.  I  am  no  flatterer,  and  claim  the  privilege  of  a 
friend  to  speak  my  mind." 

"  My  dear  Increase/'  said  I,  pressing  his  hand,  "  I  love  you 
all  the  more  for  your  sincerity  ;  but  why  do  you  call  them  my 
speculations  ?  I  have  expressed  no  opinions.  They  are  the 
opinions  of  the  characters,  and  not  mine.  I  wish  you  and  all 
the  world  distinctly  to  understand  that." 

"  And  yet  the  world  will  hold  you  to  account  for  them.  If  a 
man  fires  a  gun  into  a  crowd,  is  he  not  responsible  for  any 
mischief  that  may  be  the  consequence  ?" 

"  I  do  not  expect  to  make  so  loud  a  report,"  said  I,  smiling ; 
"but  I  protest  against  your  doctrine.  Why,  according  to  that, 
an  author  is  accountable  for  all  the  opinions  of  his  dramatis 
personae,  however  absurd  and  contradictory  they  may  be." 

"  I  do  not  go  so  far  as  that.  I  hold  that  the  author  is  only 
responsible  for  the  effect  produced  :  if  that  effect  be  favorable 
to  virtue,  he  deserves  praise  ;  if  the  contrary,  censure." 

"  I  admit  the  justice  of  the  view  you  take,  with  that  limita 
tion  ;  and  I  trust  it  is  with  a  sense  of  such  accountability  I  have 
written,"  said  I.  "  May  I,  then,  flatter  myself  with  the  hope 
that  you  will  grant  me  your  imprimatur  ?" 

"You  have  it,"  said  he;  "and  may  no  critic  regard  your 
book  with  less  indulgent  eyes  than  mine.  But  what  name  do 
you  give  the  bantling  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  "  I  have  not  concluded,  I  fancy  that  one  name 
is  nearly  as  good  as  another." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"   said  the  Rev.  Increase.     "  A 


XIV  APOLOGY 

couple  who  brought  their  child  lately  to  me  to  be  baptized  did 
not  think  so,  at  any  rate.     I  inquired  what  was  the  name  chosen, 
when,  to  my  astonishment,  I  heard  sounds  which  resembled  very 
much  one  of  the  titles  bestowed  upon  the  arch  enemy  of  man 
kind.     Supposing  that  my  ears  deceived  me,  I  inquired  again, 
when  the  same  word,  to  my  horror,  was  more  distinctly  repeated. 
'  Lucifer  !'  said  I,  to  myself,  '  impossible  !     I  cannot  baptize  a 
child  by  such  a  name.'     I  bent  over  once  more,  and  a  third  time 
asked  the  question.     The  answer  was  the  same,  and  repeated 
louder  and  with  an  emphasis,  as  if  the  parents  were  determined 
to  have  that  name  or  none.     By  this  time  my  situation  had 
become  embarrassing,  for  there  was  I,  in  the  presence  of  the 
whole  waiting  congregation,  standing  up  with  the  baby  in  my 
arms,  which,  to  add  to  my  consternation,  set  up  a  squall  as  if  to 
convince  me  that  he  was  entitled  to  the  name.     My  bachelor 
modesty  could  stand  the  scene  no  longer  ;  so,  hastily  dipping  my 
fingers  in  the  font,  and  resolving  he  should  have  a  good  name, 
as  opposite  as  possible  to  the  diabolical  one  so  strangely  selected, 
I  baptized  the  infant  George  Washington.     I  thought  the  parents 
looked  queerly  at  the  time,  but  the  rite  was  performed,  the  baby 
had  got  an  excellent  name,  and  I  was  relieved.     But  conceive, 
if  you  can,  my  confusion,  when,  after  service,  the  father  and 
mother  came  into  the  vestry,  and  the  latter  bursting  into  tears, 
exclaimed  :   '  Oh,  thir,  what  have  you  done  ?     Ith  a  girl,  ith  a 
girl  1  and  you've  called  her  George  Wathington  !     My  poor 
little  Luthy,  my  dear  little  Luthy  P     Alas  !  the  mother  lisped, 
and  when  I  asked  for  the  name,  meaning  to  be  very  polite,  and 


APOLOGY.  XV 

to  say,  Lucy,  sir,  in  reply  to  my  question,  she  had  said,  '  Luthy, 
thir/  which  I  mistook  for  Lucifer.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  I 
consoled  the  afflicted  parents  as  well  as  I  was  able,  and  pro 
mised  to  enter  the  name  in  the  parish  registry  and  town  records 
as  Lucy,  which  I  did;  but  for  all  that,  the  girl's  genuine,  ortho 
dox  name  is  George  Washington  1" 

"  I  see,"  said  I,  paying  him  for  his  joke  with  the  expected 
laugh,  "  there  is  something  in  a  name,  and  we  must  be  cautious 
in  its  choice."  The  result  was,  that  I  followed  my  friend's 
advice  in  adopting  the  one  which  was  finally  selected.  Soon 
after  the  Rev.  gentleman  took  his  hat  and  left  me  to  my  medita 
tions.  Thereupon  I  resumed  my  pen,  and  vainly  endeavored  to 
write  a  preface.  At  last,  in  despair,  I  could  hit  upon  no  better 
expedient  than  to  explain  to  you,  my  dear  Public,  the  circum 
stances  which  prevent  my  doing  it  now.  You  will  sympathize 
with  my  mortification,  and  forgive  my  failure  for  the  sake  of  the 
honest  effort,  and  no  more  think  of  condemning  me,  than  you 
would  the  aforesaid  rustic,  alluded  to  in  the  beginning  of  this  my 
apology,  should  he,  instead  of  boisterously  rushing  in  upon  the 
company,  endeavor  (his  sense  of  the  becoming  overcoming  his 
bashfulness)  to  twist  his  body  into  the  likeness  of  a  bow,  thereby 
only  illustrating  and  confirming  the  profound  wisdom  of  the 
maxim,  non  omnia  possumus  omnes.  Should  our  awkward 
attempts  be  classed  together,  I  shall  nevertheless  indulge  the 
hope,  that  better  acquaintance  with  you  will  increase  my  facility 
of  saying  nothing  with  grace,  and  improve  my  manners,  even  as 
I  doubt  not  that  under  the  tuition  of  Monsieur  Pied,  the  afore- 


XVI  A  P  0  L  0  G  Y  . 

said  countryman  might,  in  time,  be  taught  to  make  a  passable 
bow. 

For  ever,  vive,  my  dear  Public,  and,  until  we  meet  again 
(which,  whether  we  ever  do,  will  depend  upon  how  we  are 
pleased  with  each  other),  vale. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


THE    LOST   HUITER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

At  last  the  golden  orientall  gate 

Of  greatest  heaven  gan  to  open  fayre, 
And  Phcebus  fresh  as  brydegrome  to  his  mate, 

Came  dauncing  forth,  shaking  his  deawie  hayre, 
And  hurld  his  glistening  beams  through  gloomy  ayre. 

SPENSER'S  FAERY  QUEENE. 

IT  was  a  lovely  morning  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  of  grace 
18 — .  The  beams  of  the  sun  had  not  yet  fallen  upon  the  light 
veil  of  mist  that  hovered  over  the  tranquil  bosom  ,of  the  river 
Severn,  and  rose  and  gathered  itself  into  folds,  as  if  preparing 
for  departure  at  the  approach  of  an  enemy  it  were  in  vain  to 
resist.  With  a  murmur,  so  soft  it  was  almost  imperceptible, 
glided  the  stream,  blue  as  the  heaven  "it  mirrored,  between  banks 
now  green  and  gently  shelving  away,  crowned  with  a  growth  of 
oak,  hickory,  pine,  hemlock  and  savin,  now  rising  into  irregular 
masses  of  grey  rocks,  overgrown  with  moss,  with  here  and  there 
a  stunted  bush  struggling  out  of  a  fissure,  and  seeming  to  derive 
a  starved  existence  from  the  rock  itself ;  and  now,  in  strong 


18  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

contrast,  presenting  almost  perpendicular  elevations  of  barren 
sand.  Occasionally  the  sharp  cry  of  a  king-fisher,  from  a 
withered  bough  near  the  margin,  or  the  fluttering  of  the  wings 
of  a  wild  duck,  skimming  over  the  surface,  might  be  heard,  but 
besides  these  there  were  no  sounds,  and  they  served  only  to  make 
the  silence  deeper.  It  is  at  this  hour,  and  upon  an  island  in 
the  river  that  our  story  commences. 

The  island  itself  is  of  an  irregular  shape  and  very  small,  being 
hardly  an  acre  in  extent,  and  its  shore  covered  with  pebbles  and 
boulders  of  granite.  Near  the  centre,  and  fronting  the  east, 
stands  an  unpainted  wood  cabin  of  the  humblest  appearance, 
the  shape  and  size  of  which  is  an  oblong  of  some  thirty  by 
fifteen  feet.  One  rude  door  furnishes  the  only  means  of 
entrance,  and  light  is  admitted  through  two  small  windows, 
one  on  the  east  and  the  other  on  the  west  side.  Straggling 
patches  of  grass,  a  few  neglected  currant-bushes  behind  the 
hut,  and  a  tall  holly-hock  or  two  by  the  door  are  all  the  signs 
of  vegetation  that  meet  the  eye. 

At  the  door  of  this  cabin,  and  at  the  time  we  are  describing, 
stood  a  solitary  figure.  He  was  a  gaunt,  thin  man,  whose 
stature  rather  exceeded  than  fell  below  six  feet.  The  object 
about  his  person  which  first  arrested  attention  was  a  dark 
grizzled  beard,  that  fell  half-way  down  his  breast,  in  strong 
contrast  with  a  high  white  forehead,  beneath  which  glowed 
large  dreamy  eyes.  The  hair  of  his  head,  like  his  begird,  was 
long,  and  fell  loosely  over  his  shoulders.  His  dress  was  of  the 
coarsest  description,  consisting  of  a  cloth  of  a  dusky  grey  color, 
the  upper  garment  being  a  loose  sort  of  surtout,  falling  almost 
to  the  knees,  and  secured  round  the  waist  by  a  dark  woollen 
sash.  His  age  it  was  difficult  to  determine.  It  might  have 
been  anywhere  between  forty-five  and  fifty-five  years. 

The  attitude  and  appearance  of  the  man,  were  that  of  devotion 
and  expectancy.  His  body  was  bent  forward,  his  hands  clasped, 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  19 

and  his  eyes  intently  fastened  on  the  eastern  sky,  along-  the 
horizon  of  which  layers  of  clouds,  a  moment  before  of  a  leaden 
hue  were  now  assuming  deeper  and  deeper  crimson  tints.  As 
the  clouds  flushed  up  into  brighter  colors  his  countenance 
kindled  with  excitement.  His  form  seemed  to  dilate,  his  eyes 
to  flash,  his  hands  unclasped  themselves,  and  he  stretched  out 
his  arms,  as  if  to  welcome  a  long  expected  friend.  But  pre 
sently  the  rays  of  the  sun  began  to  stream  over  the  swelling 
upland  and  light  up  the  surface  of  the  river,  and  fainter  and 
fainter  shone  the  clouds,  until  they  gradually  melted  into  the 
blue  depth  away.  It  was  then  a  shade  of  disappointment,  as  it 
seemed,  passed  over  the  face  of  the  man.  Its  rapt  expression 
faded,  he  cast  a  look  almost  of  reproach  to  heaven,  and  his 
feelings  found  vent  in  words. 

"  Hast  Thou  not  said,  '  Behold,  I  come  quickly  ?'  Why 
then  delay  the  wheels  of  Thy  chariot  ?  O,  Lord,  I  have  waited 
for  Thy  salvation.  In  the  night-watches,  at  midnight,  at  cock- 
crowing,  and  in  the  morning,  have  I  been  mindful  of  Thee.  But 
chiefly  at  the  dawn  hath  my  soul  gone  forth  to  meet  Thee,  for 
then  shall  appear  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  Man  in  Heaven,  and 
they  shall  see  him  coming  in  the  clouds  of  Heaven,  with  power 
and  great  glory.  And  he  shall  send  His  angels  with  a  great 
sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  they  shall  gather  together  His  elect 
from  one  end  of  Heaven  to  the  other." 

His  eyes  glared  wildly  round,  then  fell  and  fastened  on  the 
ground,  and  for  a  few  moments  he  remained  immovable  as  a 
statue,  after  which,  with  an  air  of  dejection,  he  turned  as  if 
about  to  enter  the  hut.  At  that  moment  the  report  of  a  gun 
from  the  shore  close  by  was  heard,  and  looking,  up  he  saw  a. 
man  fall  from  the  sloping  bank  upon  the  beach. 

If  there  had  been  any  appearance  of  weakness  or  infirmity 
before  in  the  Recluse,  it  now  vanished.  Nothing  could  exceed 
the  promptitude  and  energy  of  his  movements.  To  rush  to  the 


20  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

water,  to  throw  himself  into  a  boat,  to  unfasten  it  from  the 
stake  to  which  it  was  tied,  and  with  a  vigorous  push  to  send  it 
half-way  across  the  channel,  was  the  work  of  but  an  instant. 
A  few  dextrous  and  strong  strokes  of  the  paddle  soon  sent  it 
grating  on  the  pebbled  shore,  and  with  a  bound  he  was  by 
the  side  of  the  prostrate  man.  He  lay  with  his  face  to  the 
ground,  with  one  arm  stretched  out,  and  the  other  cramped 
up  beneath  his  body.  Near  him  the  leaves  and  grass  were 
stained  with  drops  of  blood,  and  at  a  short  distance  a  gun  was 
lying. 

The  old  man  passed  his  arm  around  the  stranger,  to  raise 
him  from  his  recumbent  position.  The  motion  must  have  occa 
sioned  pain,  for  a  low  groan  was  heard.  But  it,  at  least, 
attested  the  presence  of  life,  and  there  was  consolation  in  even 
those  sad  sounds.  With  all  the  tenderness  of  a  mother  he 
raised  the  wounded  man  in  his  arms,  and  endeavored  to  discover 
the  place  and  character  of  the  wound,  in  order  to  staunch,  if 
possible,  the  bleeding.  But  it  was  soon  apparent  that  all  such 
attempts  would  be  useless,  and  only  tend  to  aggravate  the  pain 
without  leading  to  any  desirable  result,  so  long  as  the  clothing 
was  allowed  to  remain  on.  The  better  course  seemed  to  be  to 
remove  him  immediately  to  the  hut.  As  gently,  therefore,  as 
possible,  the  old  man  bore  him  to  the  boat,  and  deposited  him 
upon  its  bottom.  A  few  strokes  of  the  paddle  sent  it  back 
again  to  the  island,  and  soon  the  wounded  stranger  was  lying  on 
a  rude,  but  welcome  bed.  Here  the  first  thing  to  be  done  was 
to  divest  him  of  his  coat  and  such  other  clothing  as  hid  the 
wound.  Having  performed  this  duty,  which  was  done  by  cut 
ting  off  the  coat  and  tearing  the  under  garments,  the  next  care 
of  the  old  man  was,  in  the  best  manner  in  his  power,  to  apply 
bandages  to  stop  the  blood,  which  trickled  from  the  right 
side  and  shoulder.  This  was  done  with  no  little  skill,  as  by  one 
who  did  not  then  see  a  gun-shot  wound  for  the  first  time.  The 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  21 

process  was  accompanied  by  an  occasional  groan,  when  the 
bandages  pressed  the  wounded  parts  too  closely,  which  the  suf 
ferer  seemed  to  try  to  suppress,  appearing,  at  the  same  time,  to 
endeavor  to  express  his  thanks,  by  a  smile  and  the  soft  glances 
of  his  eyes.  Any  attempt  at  exertion  was  instantly  repressed 
by  his  kind  nurse,  who  never  failed,  when  it  occurred,  to  enjoin 
quiet. 

"  Thou  art  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  young  man,"  he  said, 
"  but  I  am  mistaken  if  there  is  much  danger.  Yet,  a  narrow 
escape  hast  thou  had.  Be  thankful  to  that  Providence,  by 
whom  the  hairs  of  thy  head  are  all  numbered,  and  who  per- 
mitteth  not  a  sparrow  to  fall  without  notice  to  the  ground,  for 
so  directing  the  shot  that  they  only  tore  the  outer  flesh,  with 
out  reaching  a  vital  part.  And  so,  hereafter,  when  the  evils  of 
life  shall  assail  thee,  may  they  penetrate  no  deeper  than  the 
surface,  nor  affect  thy  immortal  soul." 

Here  the  young  man  made  a  motion,  as  if  about  to  speak, 
but  he  was  interrupted  by  the  other. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Recluse,  "  thou  must  obey  me  for  thy  own 
good,  and  I  have.forbid  all  speech.  It  will  start  the  blood,  and 
weaken  thee  still  more.  Compose  thyself,  now,  while  I  leave 
thee  but  for  an  instant,  to  discover,  if  I  can,  a  boat  going  to 
Hfflsdale." 

We  will  avail  ourselves  of  the  absence  of  the  Recluse  to  des 
cribe  the  interior  of  the  hut  and  its  occupant.  And  to  begin 
with  the  latter — he  was  a  dark-haired  youth,  of  twenty-one  or  two 
years  of  age,  the  natural  paleness  of  whose  complexion  was 
enhanced  as  well  by  the  raven  color  of  his  hair  as  by  the  loss  of 
blood.  His  features  were  quite  regular,  and  surmounted  by  a 
brow  rather  high  than  broad.  The  eyes  were  the  most  remark 
able,  and  commanded  instant  attention.  They  were  large, 
black  and  flashing,  and,  in  spite  of  the  injunctions  of  the  old 
man,  wide  open  and  roving  round  the  apartment.  By  the  man- 


22  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

ner  in  which  he  had  been  addressed,  it  was  evident  he  was  un 
known. 

The  chamber  itself  was  a  square  of  about  fifteen  feet,  or  one- 
half  of  the  hut,  with  a  fire-place  made  of  large  stones  and  bricks, 
and  lighted  by  one  window,  and  was  lathed  and  plastered.  Its 
furniture  consisted  of  the  bed  above  mentioned,  lying  on  a  low 
pine  frame,  originally  painted  red,  but  now  somewhat  defaced 
and  worn  ;  of  a  couple  of  basket-bottomed  chairs  ;  a  stone  jar, 
to  contain  water  ;  a  rifle  and  powder-horn,  supported  by  two 
nails  driven  into  the  wall  ;  a  pine  table,  and  a  set  of  shelves 
filled  with  books.  This  was  the  back-room,  and  opened  into 
another  of  the  same  size,  differing  from  the  former  in  having  no 
fire-place  and  being  not  lathed.  This  latter  room  was  destitute 
of  furniture,  unless  a  work-bench,  on  which  were  a  few  tools  ;  a 
chopping-block,  made  of  the  segment  of  the  body  of  a  large 
tree  ;  a  cooper's  horse  ;  a  couple  of  oyster  rakes  and  some  fish 
ing-rods,  could  be  called  such.  In  two  of  the  corners  stood 
bundles  of  hickory  poles,  and  on  the  floor  were  scattered  a 
quantity  of  withes,  designed,  apparently,  tor  basket-making. 
These  articles  had,  probably,  some  connection  with  the  pur 
suits  of  the  tenant  of  the  hut.  On  the  walls,  on  pegs,  hung  a 
number  of  baskets,  of  different  sizes — some  finished,  and  some 
in  an  unfinished  condition. 

The  Recluse,  upon  leaving  his  guest,  proceeded  to  the  west 
side  of  the  little  island,  and  cast  a  searching  glance  in  every 
direction,  to  ascertain  if  any  one  were  in  sight.  No  boat  was 
visible,  and  he  immediately  retraced  his  steps. 

Noiselessly  he  stole  back  to  the  couch  of  his  guest,  whom  he 
found  apparently  asleep,  though,  in  truth,  the  slumber  was 
simulated  out  of  deference  to  the  anxieties  of  the  old  man. 
Several  times  he  passed  backwards  and  forwards  from  the 
chamber  to  the  door  before  he  had  the  satisfaction  to  find  the 
object  of  his  search.  At  length,  a  canoe  was  discovered  coming 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  23 

up  the  river,  containing  two  persons,  who,  on  nearer  approach, 
were  seen  to  be  Indians,  a  man  and  a  woman,  belonging  to  the 
remnant  of  a  tribe,  lingering  about  their  ancient  hunting- 
grounds  along  the  banks  of  the  river.  The  game,  indeed,  that 
once  abounded  in  the  woods,  had  disappeared,  and  the  blue 
stream  and  swelling  hills,  and  green  plains,  and  intrusive  indus 
try  and  increasing  villages  of  the  whites,  but  reminded  them  of 
present  weakness  and  former  power.  But,  the  sensibility  to 
degradation  was  blunted.  They  had,  gradually,  become  assimi 
lated  to  their  condition  ;  the  river  abounded  in  shell  and  other 
fish  ;  they  could  maintain  existence,  scanty  and  mean  though  it 
was,  and  they  preferred  this  certainty  to  the  nobler,  but  more 
precarious  life  of  the  Western  tribes.  As  the  canoe  approached, 
the  Recluse  beckoned  with  his  hand,  and  the  bow  was  turned 
towards  the  islet. 

"  Welcome,  Esther,"  he  said,  "  goest  thou  to  the  town  ?" 

A  silent  nod  of  the  head  was  the  reply. 

"  Wilt  thou  carry  me  a  message  ?" 

A  nod  of  acquiescence  answered  as  before. 

"  Go,  then,  quickly,  and  tell  John  Elmer,  that  a  man, 
wounded  by  a  gun,  is  lying  in  my  hut,  and  I  desire  him  to 
come  instantly. " 

The  squaw  again  nodded,  and,  without  making  an  inquiry, 
with  the  natural  apathy  of  her  race,  she  said — 

"  What  Father  Holden  say,  I  do." 

The  Indian,  who,  until  now,  had  been  silent,  here  addressed 
her  in  his  own  tongue. 

"  Can  the  Partridge,"  he  said,  "  use  her  wings  to  no  better 
purpose  than  to  fly  upon  the  errands  of  her  white  master  ?" 

"  Ohquamehud,"  said  the  squaw,  "  is  a  wise  warrior,  and  his 
eyes  are  sharp,  but  they  see  not  into  the  heart  of  a  woman.  If 
the  sunshine  and  the  rain  fall  upon  the  ground,  shall  it  bring 
forth  no  fruit  ?" 


24  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  Indian,  in  a  sarcastic  tone  ;  "Peena  is 
well  named  ;  and  the  Partridge,  though  the  daughter  of  a 
Sachem,  shall  flutter  through  the  air  to  do  the  bidding  of  the 
white  man." 

The  eyes  of  Peena,  or  the  Partridge,  flashed,  and  she  was 
about  to  return  an  angry  reply,  when  she  was  prevented  by  the 
man  whom  she  had  called  Father  Holden. 

"  Hasten  !"  he  said,  in  the  same  language,  forgetting  himself, 
in  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  and  unconsciously  using  the 
same  figurative  diction,  "  or  the  fountain  of  the  red  stream  may 
be  dried  up  before  the  medicine-man  comes.  Hasten  !  It  is 
noble  to  do  good,  and  the  Great  Spirit  shall  bless  the  deed." 

Great  was  the  astonishment  of  the  Indians  at  discovering 
they  had  been  understood,  and  hearing  themselves  addressed  in 
their  own  tongue.  But  only  an  expressive  hugh!  and  an  invo 
luntary  stroke  of  the  paddle,  which  sent  the  canoe  dancing  over 
the  water,  betrayed  their  surprise.  Holden  stood  for  a  moment 
gazing  after  them,  then  turning,  directed  his  steps  towards  the 
hut.  We  will  not  follow  him,  but  pursue  the  departing  Indians. 

For  five  minutes,  perhaps,  they  paddled  on  in  silence,  each 
apparently  unwilling  to  betray  any  curiosity  about  a  circum 
stance  that  engrossed  the  thoughts  of  both.  At  last  the  woman 
spoke. 

"  The  Great  Spirit  has  taught  the  words  of  the  wigwam  to 
the  man  with  the  Long  Beard." 

A  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  another  hugh!  were  the  only 
notice  taken  by  her  companion  of  the  observation.  Again  a 
silence  followed,  which  was  broken  this  time  by  the  man.  As  if 
to  express  his  dissent  from  the  conjecture  of  the  squaw,  he  said, 

"  The  Long  Beard  has  drunk  of  the  streams  that  run  towards 
the  setting  sun,  and  there  he  learned  the  speech  of  warriors. 
Did  he  charm  the  ears  of  Peena  with  their  sounds  when  he  taught 
her  to  run  his  errands  ?" 


T  H  E      L  0  S  T      H  U  N  T  E  R  .  25 

The  blood  crimsoned  deeper  into  the  cheeks  of  the  woman,  but 
with  an  effort  she  subdued  the  rising  feeling  of  resentment,  while 
she  answered, 

;<  Let  Ohquamehud  listen,  and  the  darkness  shall  depart  from 
his  path.  The  sun  has  eaten  the  snows  of  fifteen  winters,  and 
fifteen  times  the  song  of  the  summer  birds  have  been  silent  since 
the  Long  Beard  came  to  the  river  of  the  Pequots.  And  the 
pale  faces  desired  his  companionship,  but  he  turned  away  his 
steps  from  theirs,  and  built  his  wigwam  on  the  Salmon  Isle,  for 
the  heart  of  the  Long  Beard  was  lonely.  There  he  speaks  to  the 
Great  Spirit  in  the  morning  clouds.  The  young  cub  that  sprung 
from  the  loins  of  Huttamoiden  had  already  put  on  his  moccasins 
for  the  Spirit  land,  and  the  tears  of  Peeiia  were  falling  fast  when 
the  Long  Beard  came  to  her  wigwam.  And  he  stretched  his  arms 
over  the  boy  and  asked  of  the  Great  Spirit  that  he  might  stay  to 
lead  his  mother  by  the  hand  when  she  should  be  old  and  blind, 
and  to  pluck  the  thorns  from  her  feet.  And  the  Great  Spirit 
listened,  for  he  loves  the  Long  Beard,  and  unloosed  the  moccasins 
from  the  feet  of  the  boy,  and  the  fire  in  his  breath  went  out,  and 
he  slept,  and  was  well.  Therefore  is  Peena  a  bird  to  fly  with 
the  messages  of  the  Long  Beard.  But  this  is  the  first  time  she 
has  heard  from  white  lips  the  language  of  the  red  man." 

The  Indian  could  now  comprehend  the  conduct  of  the  woman. 
It  was  natural  she  should  be  grateful  to  the  savior  of  her  child's 
life,  and  ready  to  show  the  feeling  by  the  little  means  in  her 
power.  Could  he  have  looked  into  her  heart,  he  would  have 
seen  that  there  was  more  than  mere  gratitude  there.  Holden's 
conduct,  so  different  from  that  of  other  white  men;  the  disin 
terested  nature  of  his  character  showing  itself  in  acts  of  kindness 
to  all;  his  seclusion;  his  gravity,  which  seldom  admitted  of  a 
smile;  his  imposing  appearance,  and  his  mysterious  communings 
with  some  unseen  power — for  she  had  often  seen  him  as  he 
stood  to  watch  for  the  rising  sun,  and  heard  his  wild  bursts  of 

2 


26  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

devotion — had  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  squaw,  and  inves 
ted  him  with  the  attributes  of  a  superior  being;  a  feeling  which 
was  participated  in  by  many  of  the  Indians. 

But  if  Ohquamehud  could  have  seen  all  this,  it  would  have 
served  only  to  aggravate  the  suspicions  he  begun  to  entertain 
about  the  Long  Beard,  as  he  and  the  woman  called  Holden. 
As  an  Indian,  he  was  suspicious  of  even  the  kindness  of  the 
white  man,  lest  some  evil  design  might  lurk  beneath.  What 
wonder,  when  we  consider  the  relation  of  one  to  the  other  ? 
How  much  of  our  history  is  that  of  the  wolf,  who  charged  the 
lamb,  who  drank  below  him,  with  muddying  the  stream  ? 

Ohquamehud,  a  Pequot  by  birth,  was  a  stranger  who,  but  a 
few  days  before,  had  come  from  a  Western  tribe,  into  which  he 
had  been  adopted,  either  to  visit  the  graves  of  his  fathers,  or  for 
some  of  those  thousand  causes  of  relationship,  or  friendship,  or 
policy,  which  will  induce  the  North  American  Indian  to  journey 
hundreds  of  miles,  and  saw  the  Recluse,  for  the  first  time,  that 
morning.  If  the  gratitude  of  the  squaw  was  explained,  which, 
he  doubted  not,  was  undeserved,  the  Long  Beard's  knowledge 
of  the  Indian  tongue  was  not.  How  it  was  that  he  should  be 
thus  familiar  with  and  speak  it  with  a  grace  and  fluency  beyond 
the  power  of  the  few  scattered  members  of  the  tribe  in  the 
neighborhood,  the  most  of  whom  had  almost  lost  all  remem 
brance  of  it,  was  to  him  an  interesting  mystery.  He  mused  in 
silence  over  his  thoughts,  occasionally  stopping  the  paddle  and 
passing  his  hand  over  his  brow,  as  if  to  recall  some  circumstance 
or  idea  that  constantly  eluded  his  grasp.  In  this  manner  they 
proceeded  until,  on  turning  a  high  point  of  land,  the  little 
village  of  Hillsdale  appeared  in  sight. 

Those  who  see  now  that  handsome  town,  for  the  first  time, 
can  have  but  little  idea  of  its  appearance  then.  But,  though  the 
large  brick  stores  that  line  its  wharves,  and  the  costly  mansions 
of  modern  times,  clustering  one  above  the  other  on  the  hill-sides, 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  27 

and  its  fine  churches  of  granite  and  Portland  stone,  were  not  to 
be  seen,  yet,  it  was  even  then  a  place  that  could  not  fail  to 
attract  attention. 

The  situation  is  one  of  exceeding  beauty.  Two  bright 
streams — the  Wootiippocut,  whose  name  indicates  its  character, 
its  meaning  being  "  clear  water/7  and  the  Yaupaae,  or  "  margin 
of  a  river,"  which,  why  it  should  be  so  called  it  is  not  as  easy  to 
explain,  unite  their  waters  to  form  the  noble  Severn.  It  is  a 
pity  that  the  good  taste  which  preserved  the  original  names  of 
the  two  first,  had  not  also  retained  the  title  of  the  last — the 
Sakimau,  or  Sachem,  or  chief,  by  which  it  was  known  to  the 
Indians.  It  is  possible  the  first  settlers  in  the  country  thought, 
that  allowing  two  rivers  to  retain  their  aboriginal  appellations 
was  a  sufficient  tribute  to  good  taste,  while  they  made  the 
change  of  name  of  the  third  an  offering  to  affection,  many  of 
them  having  drawn  their  first  breath  on  the  pleasant  banks  of 
the  English  river  Severn.  It  was  on  the  tongue  of  land,  or 
promontory,  formed  by  the  confluence  of  the  two  rivers  that 
composed  the  Severn,  that  the  principal  part  of  the  town  was 
situated. 

On  the  promontory  facing  the  south,  and  rising  boldly  from 
the  water,  the  white-painted  village  ascended  half-way  up  its 
sides,  its  two  principal  streets  sweeping  away,  in  curving  lines, 
round  the  base,  upward  to  a  piece  of  level  land,  into  which  the 
north  side  of  the  hill  gently  declined.  At  the  most  northern 
part  of  this  level,  the  two  streets  united,  at  a  distance  of  a  mile 
from  the  wharves,  into  one  which  thence  winded  a  devious 
course  two  or  three  miles  further  along  the  Yaupaae.  Above 
the  highest  roofs  and  steeples,  towered  the  green  summit  of  the 
hill,  wfiose  thick-growing  evergreens  presented,  at  all  seasons,  a 
coronal  of  verdure.  One  who  stood  on  the  top  could  see  come 
rushing  in  from  the  east,  through  a  narrow  throat,  and  between 
banks  that  rose  in  height  as  they  approached  the  town,  the  swift 


28  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

Wootiippocut,  soon  to  lose  both  its  hurry  and  its  name  in  the 
deeper  and  more  tranquil  Severn,  of  which  it  is  the  principal 
tributary,  while  on  the  west  he  beheld,  gliding  like  a  silver 
snake  through  green  meadows,  the  gentle  Yaupaae,  lingering, 
as  if  it  loved  the  fields  through  which  it  wandered,  until  sud 
denly  quickening  its  pace,  with  a  roar  as  of  angry  vexation,  it 
precipitated  itself  in  eddies  of  boiling  foam,  whose  mist  rose 
high  into  the  air,  down  a  deep  gorge,  between  overhanging 
rocks,  through  which  it  had  forced  a  passage.  Thence  the 
stream,  subsiding  into  sudden  tranquillity,  expanded  into  a  cove 
dotted  with  two  or  three  little  islands,  and  flowing  round  the 
base  of  the  hill  which  declined  gradually  towards  the  west, 
united  itself  with  the  Wootiippocut.  Far  beneath  his  feet  he 
saw  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  and  steeples  of  churches,  and  masts 
of  sloops,  employed  in  the  coasting  business,  and  of  brigs 
engaged  in  the  West  India  trade,  and  noticed  a  communication, 
partly  bridge  and  partly  causey,  thrown  over  the  mouth  of  the 
Yaupaae  and  uniting  the  opposite  banks  ;  for,  on  the  western 
side,  along  the  margin  and  up  the  hill,  houses  were  thickly 
scattered. 

The  canoe  soon  glided  alongside  of  one  of  the  wharves,  and 
the  Indians  disappeared  in  the  streets. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  29 


CHAPTER  II. 

With  us  there  was  a  Doctor  of  Physic : 

In  all  this  world  ne  was  there  none  him  like, 

To  speak  of  physic  and  of  surgery. 

****** 

He  knew  the  cause  of  every  malady, 

Were  it  of  cold,  or  hot,  or  moist,  or  dry, 

And  where  engendered,  and  of  what  humor  : 

He  was  a  very  perfect  practiser. 

The  cause  y  know,  and  of  his  harm  the  root, 

Anon  he  gave  to  the  sick  man  his  boot. 

CHAUCER. 

THE  first  care  of  the  faithful  Peena  or  Esther,  was  to  seek 
the  "doctor.  She  found  him  at  home,  and  was  instantly  admit 
ted  to  his  presence. 

"  Queen  Esther,"  he  exclaimed,  the  moment  he  saw  her,  "  is 
it  thou  ?  Welcome,  descendant  of  a  line  of  kings.  Would'st 
like  some  cider?"  He  spoke  the  word  "cider"  like  the 
Indians,  with  a  rising  inflection  on  the  last  syllable.  It  was  an 
offer  no  Indian  could  resist,  and  the  squaw  answered  simply  in 
the  affirmative.  From  a  pitcher  of  the  grateful  beverage, 
which  shortly  before  had  been  brought  into  the  room,  and 
which,  indeed,  suggested  the  offer,  the  doctor  filled  a  foaming 
glass,  and  the  squaw  was  not  long  in  draining  its  contents, 
after  which  she  delivered  herself  of  her  errand. 

"  Esther,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  rising  and  hastening  to  col 
lect  his  instruments  and  medicine  pouch,  "  thou  hast  circum 
vented  me.  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  ?  Here  have  I 
been  pouring  cider  into  your  royal  gullet,  when  I  should  have 


30  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

hastened  to  take  a  bullet  out  of  some  plebeian  carcass.     Can 
you  tell  me  the  name  of  the  wounded  man  ?" 

The  squaw  shook  her  head,  and  only  said,  "Esther  not 
know." 

By  this  time  his  preparations  were  completed,  which  he  had 
not  allowed  the  conversation  to  interrupt,  and  closely  followed 
by  the  woman,  he  hastened  to  the  wharf.  Here  casting  an  eye 
to  the  flys  that  waved  from  the  masts  of  some  of  the  vessels, 
and  observing  the  wind  was  fair,  he  rejected  her  offer  to  take 
him  in  the  canoe,  and  throwing  himself  into  a  little  sail-boat, 
was  soon  busily  engaged  in  untying  the  sails.  While  thus 
employed  a  voice  saluted  his  ears  : 

"  Why,  doctor,  what  is  in  the  wind  now  ?" 
The  person  who  thus  addressed  him  was  a  young  man  of 
probably  not  more  than  twenty-five  years  of  age.     His  dress 
indicated  that  he  belonged  to  the  wealthier  class  of  citizens,  and 
there  was  something  pleasing  in  his  manners  and  address. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  William,"  said  the  doctor.     "  I  want  a 
crew  ;  come,  ship  for  a  cruise." 
"But  where  away,  doctor  ?" 

"  To  Holden's  island,  to  visit  a  wounded  man.  Jump  aboard, 
and  tend  jib-sheets.'7 

By  this  time  the  sails  were  hoisted,  and,  the  young  man  com 
plying  with  the  invitation,  the  little  craft  was  soon  under 
weigh,  and  rapidly  proceeding  down  the  river.  The  distance 
was  only  three  or  four  miles,  and  quickly  passed  over  They 
were  met  on  the  beach  by  Holden,  to  whom  the  gentlemen 
were  both  known,  but  he  was  unable  to  inform  them  of  the 
name  of  the  wounded  man.  As  soon  as  the  doctor  beheld  him, 
however,  he  exclaimed : 

"It  is  Mr.  Pownal.     God  forbid  the  hurt  should  be  serious." 
The  countenance  of  the  doctor's  companion,   and    the  few 
words  he  uttered,  denoted  also  recognition  of  the  stranger. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  81 

"  So,  my  poor  fellow,"  said  the  doctor,  as  the  sufferer 
extended  a  hand,  and  expressed  in  a  few  words  his  pleasure  at 
the  coming  of  the  two,  "  that  is  enough,  I  claim  a  monopoly 
of  the  talking." 

He  proceeded  at  once  to  examine  the  wound,  which  he  did 
with  great  care  and  in  silence.  He  found,  as  Holden  had  said, 
that  the  charge  had  only  grazed  the  surface,  tearing  the  flesh 
from  the  side  up  to  the  shoulder,  pretty  deeply,  indeed,  but 
making  an  ugly,  rather  than  a  dangerous  wound.  After  the 
task  was  completed,  and  lint  and  fresh  bandages  were  applied, 
the  doctor  sunk  with  a  sigh,  as  of  relief,  upon  a  chair,  and 
assured  the  young  man  that  he  only  needed  rest  for  the  present, 
and  in  a  day  or  two  might  return  to  his  friends. 

"  I  would  rather  lose  six  ordinary  patients  than  you,  Tom 
Pownal,"  he  said.  "  Why  you  are  my  beau  ideal  of  a  merchant, 
the  Ionic  capital  of  the  pillar  of  trade.  Now,  let  not  your 

mind  be 

i 

"  '  Tossing  on  the  ocean ; 
There,  where  your  argosies  with  portly  sail, 
Like  signiors  and  rich  burghers  on  the  flood ; 
Or,  as  it  were  the  pageants  of  the  sea, 
Do  overpower  the  petty  traffickers.' 

Quiet,  my  dear  boy,  both  of  mind  and  body,  are  your  indispen- 
sables.     I  want  you  to  understand  that  : 

"  '  I  tell  thee  what,  Antonio— 
I  love  thee,  and  it  is  my  love  that  speaks.'  " 

Pownal  promised  to  be  very  obedient,  in  consideration 
whereof  the  doctor  guaranteed  he  should  receive  great  satisfac 
tion  from  his  wound.  '•  You  shall  see  for  yourself/'  he  said, 
"  how  beautifully  it  will  heal.  To  a  scientific  eye,  and  under 
my  instruction  you  shall  get  one,  there  is  something  delightful  in 


32  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

witnessing  the  granulations.  We  may  say  of  Nature,  as  Dr. 
Watts  sings  of  the  honey-bee  : 

"  '  How  skillfully  she  builds  her  cell, 
How  neat  she  stores  the  wax  I' 

I  consider  you  a  fortunate  fellow." 

The  young  men  were  obliged  to  smile  at  the  doctor's  way  of 
viewing  the  subject ;  but  he  paid  little  attention  to  their  mirth. 

"And  I  will  remain,  meanwhile,  with  you,"  said  William 
Bernard,'  which  was  the  name  of  the  gentleman  who  had  accom 
panied  the  physician,  addressing  himself  to  Pownal,  "  if  our 
good  friend," — and  here  he  looked  at  Holdeii — "  has  no  objec 
tion." 

The  Recluse  signified  his  assent  ;  and  Pownal,  thanking  his 
friend,  the  doctor  gave  his  sanction  to  the  arrangement. 

"  It  will  do  you  no  harm,  William,"  he  said,  "  to  rough  it  for 
a  night  or  two,  and  you  will  prove  yourself  thereby  of  a  different 
stamp  from  Timon's  friends."  And  here*  the  doctor,  who  loved 
to  quote  poetry,  especially  Shakspeare's,  better  than  to  admin 
ister  medicine,  indulged  again  in  his  favorite  habit : 

"  '  As  we  do  turn  our  backs 
From  our  companion  thrown  into  his  grave, 
So  his  familiars,  to  his  buried  fortunes, 
Slink  all  away  ;  leave  their  false  vows  with  him, 
Like  empty  purses  picked,  and  his  poor  self 
A  dedicated  beggar  to  the  air.' 

But,  Mr.  Holden,  lend  me  thy  ears  a  moment,  and  thy  tongue, 
too,  if  you  please,  for  you  must  tell  me  how  this  happened.  I 
do  not  care  to  disturb  Pownal  with  the  inquiry." 

So  saying,  he  walked  out  of  the  chamber,  followed  by  the 
Recluse. 

"  Tell  me  first,"  said  Holden,  as  they  stood  in  the  open  air, 
"  what  thou  thinkcst  of  the  wound." 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  33 

"Ha  !"  cried  the  doctor,  "'tis  not  so  deep  as  a  well  nor  so 
wide  as  a  church  door  ;  but  'tis  enough — 'twill  serve." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  the  Recluse,  "  hast  thou  been  deceiving 
the  boy  !  But  no,  thou  art  incapable  of  that  ;  and,  besides,  I 
have  seen  too  many  wounds  to  apprehend  danger  from  this." 

"  I  see,  Mend,  you  have  read  Shakspeare  to  some  purpose," 
cried  the  doctor  ;  "  but  know  that  I  spoke  not  in  the  sense  in 
which  Mercutio  speaks  of  the  wound  that  Tybalt  gave  him. 
My  mirth  is  not  so  grave  as  poor  Mercutio's.  Look  you,  now,  I 
told  you  but  the  simple  truth,  and  what  your  own  eyes  have 
seen.  The  wound  is  not  so  deep  as  a  well,  nor  so  wide  as  a 
church  door.  If  it  were — admitting  the  physical  possibility — 
Pownal  would  be  a  monster  to  look  at,  and  no  dressings  of 
mine  would  be  of  any  use.  And  it  is  enough,  too.  You  would 
not  have  it  more.  Besides,  'twill  serve  ;  that  is,  to  keep  him  a 
day  or  two  in  your  cabin.  And  herein  consists  one  of  the  innu 
merable  excellences  of  Shakspeare.  Every  sentence  is  as  full 
of  matter  as  my  saddle-bags  of  medicine.  Why,  I  will  engage 
to  pick  out  as  many  meanings  in  each  as  there  are  plums  in  a 
pudding.  But,  friend,  I  am  sure  you  must  have  a  copy.  Let 
me  see  it." 

"I  know  little  of  these  vanities,"  replied  Holden.  "In  my 
giddy  youth,  I  drank  such  follies,  even  as  the  ass  sucketh  up  the 
east  wind.  But  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  open  mine  eyes.  In 
thoughts  from  the  visions  of  the  night,"  he  continued — and  his 
eyes  shone  brighter,  and  his  stature  seemed  to  increase — "  when 
deep  sleep  falleth  on  men,  fear  came  upon  me  and  trembling, 
which  made  all  my  bones  to  shake.  Then  a  vision  passed  before 
me,  and  the  hair  of  my  flesh  stood  up.  It  stood  still,  but  I 
could  not  discern  the  form  thereof :  an  image  was  before  mine 
eyes — there  was  silence,  and  then  I  heard  a  voice  saying, 
1  Behold,  I  come  quickly  ;  watch  and  pray,  for  thou  knowest 
not  the  day  nor  the  hour  !'  I  was  not  disobedient  to  the 

2* 


34  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

heavenly  warning,  and  thenceforth  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  the 
world  have  been  as  the  dust  beneath  my  feet." 

This  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  doctor  heard  the  Recluse 
speak  of  his  peculiar  opinions  ;  but,  although  always  ready  to 
avow  and  dilate  upon  them  when  others  were  willing  to  listen, 
he  had  uniformly  manifested  an  unwillingness  to  allude  to  him 
self  or  the  incidents  of  his  life  Whenever,  heretofore,  as  some 
times  happened,  the  curiosity  of  his  auditors  led  the  conversation 
in  that  direction,  he  had  invariably  evaded  all  hints  and  repulsed 
every  inquiry.  But  his  mood  seemed  different  to-day.  Elmer 
was  a  friend  whom  Holden  highly  prized,  and  he  could  there 
fore  speak  the  more  freely  in  his  presence  ;  but  this  is  not 
sufficient  to  account  for  the  dropping  of  his  reserve.  We  know 
no  other  explanation  than  that  there  are  times  when  the  heart 
of  every  one  is  opened,  and  longs  to  unburden  itself,  and  this 
was  one  of  them  that  unsealed  the  lips  of  the  Solitary. 

"  Is  it  long  since  the  revelation  ?"  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  Too  long,"  said  Holden,  "did  I  wander  in  the  paths  of  sin, 
and  in  forgetfulness  of  my  God,  and  my  youth  was  wasted  in 
that  which  satisfieth  not,  neither  doth  it  profit.  My  heart  was 
very  hard,  and  it  rose  up  in  rebellion  against  the  Lord.  Then 
it  pleased  Him  (blessed  be  His  holy  name)  to  bray  nie  in  the 
mortar  of  affliction,  and  to  crush  me  between  the  tipper  and  the 
nether  millstone.  Yet  I  heeded  not ;  and,  like  Nebuchadnezzar, 
my  mind  was  hardened  in  pride,  continually.  Then,  as  the  King 
of  Babylon  was  driven  forth  from  the  sons  of  men,  and  his  heart 
made  like  the  beasts',  and  his  dwelling  was  with  the  wild  asses, 
and  they  fed  him  with  grass,  like  oxen,  and  his  body  was  wet 
with  the  dew  of  heaven,  even  so  did  the  Spirit  drive  me  forth 
into  the  tabernacles  of  the  wild  men  of  the  forest  and  the 
prairie,  and  I  sojourned  with  them  many  days.  But  He  doth 
not  always  chide,  neither  keepcth  He  His  anger  for  ever.  In 
His  own  good  time,  He  snatched  me  from  the  fiery  furnace,  and 


THE      LOST      HUNTER..  35 

bade  me  here  wait  for  His  salvation  ;  and  here,  years,  long 
years,  have  I  looked  for  His  promise.  0,  Lord,  how 
long  I" 

The  doctor's  question  was  unanswered,  either  because  Holden 
forgot  it,  in  his  excitement,  or  that  he  was  incapable  of  giving 
any  accurate  account  of  the  passage  of  time.  But  thus  much 
the  doctor  could  gather  from  his  incoherent  account,  that,  at 
some  period  of  his  life,  he  had  suffered  a  great  calamity,  which 
had  affected  his  reason.  In  this  condition,  he  had  probably 
joined  the  Indians,  and  passed  several  years  among  them,  and 
afterwards,  upon  a  partial  restoration  of  intellect,  adopted  the 
wild  notions  he  professed.  What  had  passed  during  those 
years,  was  a  secret  known  only  to  himself,  if,  indeed,  the  events 
had  not  disappeared  from  his  memory. 

"  You  have  suffered  bitterly,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Talk  not  of  suffering,"  exclaimed  Holden.  "  1  reckon  all 
that  man  can  endure  as  not  to  be  compared  with  the  crown  of 
glory  that  awaits  him  who  shall  gain  entrance  into  the  King 
dom.  What  is  this  speck  we  call  life  ?  Mark/'  he  continued, 
taking  up  a  pebble  and  dropping  it  into  the  water,  "  it  is  like 
the  bubble  that  rises  to  burst,  or  the  sound  of  my  voice  that 
dies  as  soon  away.  Thereon  waste  I  not  a,  thought,  except  to 
prepare  me  for  the  coming  of  my  Lord." 

"  You  think,  then,  this  solitary  life  the  best  preparation  you 
can  make  for  the  next  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Holden  ;  "  I  work  not  my  own  will.  Can  the 
clay  say  to  the  potter,  what  doest  thou  ?  Behold,  I  am  in  the 
hand  of  One  wiser  and  mightier  than  I.-  Nor  hath  he  left  me 
without  duties  to  perform.  I  am  one  crying  in  the  wilderness, 
and  though  the  people  heed  not,  yet  must  the  faithful  witness 
cry.  I  have  a  work  to  perform,  and  how  is  my  soul  straitened 
until  it  be  done  ?  Canst  thou  not  thyself  see,  by  what  hath 
happened  to-day,  some  reason  why  the  solitary  is  upon  his 


36  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

lonely  island  ?     Had  he  loved  the  crowded  haunts  of  men,  a 
fellow-being  had,  perhaps,  perished/'' 

'  The  allusion  to  the  occurrence  of  the  morning  recalled  the 
doctor's  attention  to  the  purpose  for  which  he  had  left  the 
chamber,  and  which  he  had  forgotten,  in  listening  to  the  talk  of 
the  enthusiast.  He  now  directed  the  conversation  to  the  sub 
ject  of  the  wound,  and  heard  Holden's  account.  He  became 
convinced,  both  from  his  statement,  and  from  a  few  words  Pow- 
nal  himself  had  dropped,  as  well  as  from  the  sight  of  the  gun 
which  Holden  had  picked  up,  and  found  just  discharged,  that 
the  wounding  was  accidental,  and  occasioned  by  the  young 
man's  own  fowling-piece.  Having  satisfied  himself  on  this  point, 
the  doctor,  with  his  companion,  re-entered  the  hut.  It  was  only 
to  give  a  few  parting  directions  to  Bernard,  to  enjoin  quiet 
upon  his  patient,  and  to  take  leave  of  him,  which  he  did,  in  the 
words  of  his  favorite — 

"  Fare  thee  well  I 

The  elements  be  kind  to  thee,  and  make 
Thy  spirits  all  of  comfort." 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  37 


CHAPTER  III. 


Ici  il  fallut  que  j'en  divinasse  plus  qu'on  ne  rn'en  disoit. 

MEMOIRES  DE  SULLY. 


A  WEEK  after  the  events  narrated  in  the  preceding  chapters, 
a  small  company  was  collected  in  a  parlor  of  one  of  the  houses 
of  Hillsdale.  It  consisted  of  a  gentleman,  of  some  fifty  years 
of  age  ;  his  wife,  a  fine-looking  matron,  some  years  his  junior  ; 
their  daughter,  a  bright  blue-eyed  flaxen-haired  girl,  rounding 
into  the  most  graceful  form  of  womanhood,  and  a  young  man, 
who  is  not  entirely  a  stranger  to  us. 

The  judgment  of  the  doctor,  respecting  the  wound  of  Pow- 
nal — for  it  is  he— had  proved  to  be  correct,  and,  on  the  second 
day  after  the  hurt,  he  had  returned  to  the  village,  with  his 
friend  William  Bernard,  in  the  house  of  whose  father  he  was, 
for  the  present,  domiciliated.  The  young  men  had  been 
acquainted  before,  and  the  accident  seemed  to  have  established 
a  sort  of  intimacy  between  them.  It  was,  therefore,  with  no 
feeling  of  reluctance,  that  Pownal  accepted  an  invitation  to 
desert  his  boarding-house  for  a  while,  for  the  hospitality  of  his 
friend.  Perhaps,  his  decision  was  a  little  influenced  by  the 
remembrance  of  the  blue  eyes  of  Miss  Bernard,  and  of  the 
pleasant  effect  which,  from  their  first  acquaintance,  they  had 
exerted  upon  him.  However  that  may  be,  it  is  certain,  that, 
although  somewhat  paler  than  usual,  he  appeared  to  be  quite 
contented  with  his  condition. 

It  was  evening,  and  candles  were  lighted,  and  Mr.  Bernard, 


38  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

or  as  he  was  more  commonly,  or,  indeed,  almost  universally, 
called,  Judge  Bernard,  from  having  been  one  of  the  judges  of 
the  Superior  Court,  was  sitting  in  an  arm-chair,  reading  a  news 
paper  ;  Mrs.  Bernard  was  busy  with  her  knitting  ;  the  young 
lady  employed  upon  one  of  those  pieces  of  needle-work,  which, 
in  those  days,  were  seldom  out  of  female  hands,  and  Pownal 
looking  at  her  all  he  dared,  and  listening  to  an  occasional  para 
graph  read  by  the  Judge  from  his  newspaper. 

"  You  are  the  cause  of  quite  a  sensation  in  our  little  com 
munity,  Thomas,"  said  the  Judge,  laying  down  his  spectacles 
and  newspaper  at  the  same  time.  "  Mr.  Editor  Peters  and  the 
gossips  ought  to  be  infinitely  obliged  to  you  for  wounding 
yourself,  and  affording  him  an  opportunity  to  display  his  inven 
tive  genius  and  the  brilliancy  of  his  imagination,  and  giving  them 
something  to  talk  about.  Here,  Anne,  read  the  article  aloud 
for  our  edification." 

The  young  lady  ran  her  eye  hastily  down  the  column,  and 
could  not  restrain  her  laughter. 

"  Excuse  me,  papa,"  she  said,  "it  is  too  much  for  my  poor 
nerves.  Only  think  of  it  ;  Mr.  Peters  loads  Mr.  Pownal's  gun 
with  sixteen  buck-shot,  topples  him  off  a  precipice  twenty  feet 
high,  breaks  three  of  his  ribs,,  and  makes  a  considerable  incision 
in  his  skull.  Never  was  there  such  a  wonderful  escape.  It  is 
too  horrible." 

"  How  the  newspapers  are  given  to  big  stories  I"  said  Mrs. 
Bernard. 

"I  dare  say,"  cried  Anne,  "the  editor  has  authority  for 
what  he  says,  for  now  that  my  attention  is  drawn  to  it,  I  think 
there  must  be  something  in  the  incision.  Have  you  not 
remarked,  mamma,  that  Mr.  Pownal  is  at  times  light-headed  ?" 

"  Anne  I"  exclaimed  her  mother,  smiling,  "  I  am  ashamed  to 
hear  a  young  girl  rattle  on  so." 

"  I  am  not  aware  of  being  more  light-headed  than  usual/'  said 


THE    LOST  "HUNTER.  39 

Pownal,  ''  but  I  am  certain  no  one  can  be  in  Miss  Bernard's 
company,  and  not  be  light-hearted." 

"  Very  prettily  spoken  !  Mr.  Thomas  Pownal  is  practising 
his  wit  upon  a  country  maiden,  in  order  to  be  in  training  when 
he  returns  to  open  the  campaign  among  the  New  York  ladies." 

"  I  am  too  happy  here,"  said  Pownal,  in  a  low  tone,  "  to  wish 
to  return  to  the  city." 

An  almost  imperceptible  blush  suffused  the  cheeks  of  Miss 
Bernard.  She  looked  up  from  the  newspaper,  but  her  eyes 
encountering  those  of  the  young  man,  instantly  fell. 

"  What  fine  speeches  are  you  making  to  one  another  ?"  broke 
in  the  Judge.  "  My  dear,  do  not  hold  down  your  head.  It 
throws  the  blood  into  your  face." 

"  Papa,"  cried  his  daughter,  desirous  to  divert  attention  from 
herself,  "can  you  find  nothing  instructing  in  the  paper  to  read 
to  us  ?  Is  there  no  report  of  any  speech  ?" 

"  Speeches,  indeed  !  Thank  Heaven,  there  is  no  speech  in 
this  paper.  The  session  of  Congress  has  not  commenced,  and 
the  deluge  of  words,  in  comparison  with  which  Noah's  flood 
was  a  summer's  shower,  therefore,  not  begun.  Why,  my  dear 
little  daughter,  do  you  remind  me  of  the  national  calamity  ?" 

"  To  atone  for  the  offence,  papa,  let  me  tell  you  that  Mr. 
Armstrong  and  Faith  promised  to  come  to  see  us  this  evening, 
and  from  the  sound  of  the  opening  of  the  front  gate,  I  suspect 
they  are  close  at  hand." 

Anne's  conjecture  proved  true,  for  shortly  after  the  expected 
visitors  were  announced,  and  the  usual  greetings  having  passed, 
they  were  all  soon  seated. 

But  before  proceeding  further,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  give 
some  description  of  persons  destined  to  play  a  not  unimportant 
part  in  our  story. 

Mr.  Armstrong  was  of  middle  age,  of  the  ordinary  stature,  and 
with  a  face  which  still  possessed  great  beauty.  A  noble  t>row, 


40  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

hair  originally  black,  but  prematurely  grey,  large  dark  eyes, 
a  straight  nose,  and  a  well-formed  mouth,  over  which  played 
an  expression  of  benevolence,  made  an  exterior  of  exceeding 
attractiveness,  and  it  would  have  been  an  unmixed  pleasure  to 
gaze  upon  his  gracious  presence,  but  for  an  air  of  dejection 
amounting  to  suffering,  which  had  of  late  been  increasing 
upon  him.  He  seldom  smiled,  and  when  he  did  the  smile  was 
often  succeeded  by  a  dark  shadow,  as  if  he  felt  compunction  for 
trespassing  on  the  precints  of  gaiety. 

Faith  strongly  resembled  her  father,  as  well  in  externals  as  in 
the  character  of  her  mind.  Her  figure  was  slender,  approaching 
even  to  delicacy,  though  without  any  appearance  of  sickliuess. 
Her  face,  pale  and  thoughtful  usually,  was  sometimes  lighted 
up  with  an  enthusiasm  more  angelic  than  human  Her  mother 
having  died  when  she  was  too  young  to  appreciate  the  loss,  she 
had'  concentrated  upon  her  father  all  that  love  which  is  generally 
divided  between  two  parents.  Nor  was  it  with  a  feeling  of  love 
only  she  regarded  him.  With  it  was  mixed  a  sentiment  of 
reverence  amounting  almost  to  idolatry.  No  opinion,  no 
thought,  no  word,  no  look  of  his  but  had  for  her  a  value.  And 
richly  was  the  affection  of  the  child  returned  by  the  father,  and 
proud  was  he  of  her,  notwithstanding  his  struggles  against  the 
feeling  as  something  sinful. 

It  was  the  first  time  since  the  accident  to  Pownal  that  Mr. 
Armstrong  or  his  daughter  had  seen  him,  and  the  conversation 
naturally  turned  upon  the  danger  he  had  incurred. 

"  It  was  a  providential  escape/'  said  Mr.  Armstrong.  "  It  is 
astonishing  how  many  dangers  we  run  into,  and  our  escapes  may 
be  considered  as  so  many  daily  miracles  to  prove  the  interposi 
tion  of  a  controlling  Providence.  There  are  few  persons  who 
cannot  look  back  upon  several  such  in  the  course  of  their 
lives." 

"  You  are  right,  my  friend,"  said  the  Judge.     "  I  can  recall 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  41 

half  a  dozen  in  my  own  experience  ;  and  if  some  have  had  fewer, 
some,  doubtless,  have  had  more." 

"  These  accidents  are,  I  suspect,  the  consequences  of  our  own 
carelessness  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,"  said  Pownal.  "At  any 
rate,  I  am  sure  it  was  my  carelessness  that  occasioned  mine." 

"  You  speak  as  if  it  could  have  been  avoided,"  said  Mr. 
Armstrong. 

"  Certainly.     Do  you  not  think  so  ?" 

"  I  am  not  sure  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong.  "  There  appears 
to  be  a  chain  which  links  events  together  in  an  inevitable  union. 
The  very  carelessness  of  which  you  accuse  yourself  may  be  the 
means  purposely  used  to  bring  about  important  events." 

"  It  has  brought  about  very  agreeable  events  for  me^'  said 
Pownal.  "  I  am  only  afraid,  from  the  care  lavished  upon  me,  I 
shall  be  tempted  to  think  too  much  of  myself." 

"It  has  scattered  pleasure  all  around,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Ber 
nard,  kindly. 

u  Yes,"  said  the  Judge;  "any  attention  we  can  render  is  more 
than  repaid  by  the  pleasure  Mr.  PownaFs  presence  imparts.  If 
he  should  ever  think  more  highly  of  himself  than  we  do,  he  will 
be  a  very  vain  person." 

The  young  man  could  only  bow,  and  with  a  gratified  counte 
nance  return  his  thanks  for  their  kindness. 

"  Your  adventure  was  also  the  means,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong, 
"of  making  you  acquainted  with  our  anchorite.  Did  you  not  find 
him  an  interesting  person  ?" 

"More  than  interesting,"  replied  Pownal.  "  From  the  moment 
he  took  me  into  his  arms  as  if  I  had  been  a  child,  and  with  all 
the  tenderness  of  a  mother,  I  felt  strangely  attracted  to  him.  I 
shall  always  remember  with  pleasure  the  two  days  I  spent  in  his 
cabin,  and  mean  to  cultivate  his  acquaintance  if  he  will  per 
mit  me." 

"  He  is  evidently  a  man  of  refinement  and  education,"  said 


42  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

Armstrong,  "who,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  has  adopted  his 
peculiar  mode  of  life.  It  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  be  said 
to  be  acquainted  with  him,  but  the  more  I  know  him,  the  better 
I  like  him.  He  and  Faith  are  great  friends." 

''I  value  his  friendship  highly  and  am  glad  he  made  so  favorable 
an  impression  on  you,  Mr.  Pownal,"  said  Faith. 

"I  do  believe,"  cried  Anne,  "Faith  could  not  reverence  him 
more  if  he  were  one  of  the  old  prophets." 

"If  not  a  prophet,"  said  Faith,  "he  is  at  least  a  noble  and 
good  man,  and  that  is  the  highest  title  to  respect.  He  takes  an 
interest  in  you,  too,  Mr.  Pownal,  for  Anne  tells  me  he  has  been 
to  see  you." 

"My  preserver  has  been  here  several  times  to  make  inqui 
ries  after  my  health,"  answered  Pownal.  "He  was  here  this 
morning." 

"And  preaching  about  the  kingdom,"  said  Judge  Bernard. 
"What  a  strange  infatuation  to  look  for  the  end  of  the  world 
each  day." 

"He  errs  in  the  interpretation  of  the  prophecies,"  said  Mr. 
Armstrong,  "when  he  finds  in  them  prognostics  of  the  speedy 
destruction  of  the  world,  but  does  he  mistake  the  personal  appli 
cation?  Who  knows  when  he  may  be  called  to  face  his  judge? 
Youth,  and  health,  and  strength,  furnish  no  immunity  against 
death." 

"But  what  a  gloom  this  daily  expectation  of  an  event  which 
the  wisest  and  stoutest  hearted  are  unable  to  contemplate  without 
trepidation,  casts  over  life,"  said  the  Judge. 

"Not  in  his  case,"  replied  Armstrong.  "On  the  contrary,  I 
am  satisfied  he  would  hail  it  with  a  song  of  thanksgiving,  and  I 
think  I  have  observed  he  is  sometimes  impatient  of  the  delay." 

"It  is  well  his  notions  are  only  crazy  fancies  as  absurd  as  his 
beard.  His  appearance  is  very  heathenish,"  said  Mrs.  Bernard. 

"Taste,  my  dear,"  exclaimed  the  Judge,  "  all  taste.     Why,  I 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  43 

have  a  great  mind  to  wear  a  beard  myself.  It  would  be  a  pro 
digious  comfort  to  dispense  with  the  razor  in  cold  winter  morn 
ings,  to  say  nothing  of  the  ornament.  And  now  that  I  think  of 
it,  it  is  just  the  season  to  begin." 

"  You  would  look  like  a  bear,  Mr.  Bernard,"  said  his  wife. 

"  It  would  be  too  near  an  imitation  of  the  old  Puritans  for 
you,  Judge,"  said  Faith. 

"You,  at  least,  my  little  Puritan,"  cried  the  Judge,  "would 
not  object.  But  do  not  fancy  that  in  avoiding  Scylla  I  must  run 
upon  Charybdis.  Be  sure  I  would  not  imitate  the  trim  mous 
taches  and  peaked  chins  of  those  old  dandies,  Winthrop  and 
Endicott.  I  prefer  the  full  flowing  style  of  Wykliffe  and" 
Cranmer." 

"  We  should  then  have  two  Holdens,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ber 
nard,  "  and  that  would  be  more  than  our  little  village  could  live 
through." 

"Fancy   papa    running   an   opposition  beard    against    Mr. 

Holden!"  said  Anne. 

The  idea  was  sufficiently  ludicrous  to  occasion  a  general 
laugh,  and  even  Armstrong  smiled. 

"I  am  a  happy  man,"  said  the  Judge  ;  "not  only  mirthful, 
myself,  but  the  cause  of  mirth  in  others.  What  a  beam  of  light 
is  a  smile,  what  a  glory  like  a  sunrise  is  a  laugh  1' 

"That  will  do,  Judge  Bernard,  that  will  do,"  said  his  wife  ; 
"  do  not  try  again,  for  you  cannot  jump  so  high  twice." 

"  Tut,  tut,  Mary  ;  what  do  you  know  about  the  higher 
poetics  ?  I  defy  you  to  find  such  sublimities  either  in  Milton  or 
Dante." 

"  I  can  easily  believe  it,"  said  Mrs.  Bernard. 

At  this  moment  some  other  visitors  entering  the  room,  the 
conversation  took  another  turn;  and  Mr.  Armstrong  and  his 
daughter  having  remained  a  short  time  longer,  took  leave  and 
returned  home.  Let  us  follow  the  departing  visitors. 


44  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

Upon  his  return,  Mr.  Armstrong  sank  upon  a  seat  with  an 
air  of  weariness. 

"  Come,  Faith,"  he  said,  "  and  sit  by  me  and  hold  my  hand. 
I  have  been  thinking  this  evening  of  the  insensibility  of  the 
world  to  their  condition.  How  few  perceive  the  precipice  on 
the  edge  of  which  they  stand  !" 

His  daughter,  who  was  accustomed  to  these  sombre  reflec 
tions,  bent  over,  and  bringing  his  hand  to  her  lips,  kissed  it 
without  saying  anything,  knowing  that  he  would  soon  explain 
himself  more  perfectly. 

u  Which,"  continued  Armstrong,  "  is  wiser,  the  thoughtless 
frivolity  of  Judge  Bernard,  or  the  sad  watchfulness  of  Holden  ?" 

"  I  am  not  competent  to  judge,  dear  father;  but  if  they  both 
act  according  to  their  convictions  of  right,  are  they  not  doing 
their  duty  ?" 

"  You  ask  a  difficult  question.  To  be  sure  men  must  act 
according  to  their  ideas  of  right,  but  let  them  beware  how  they 
get  them,  and  what  they  are.  Yet,  can  one  choose  his  ideas  ? 
These  things  puzzle  me  ?" 

"  What  else  can  we  do,"  inquired  his  daughter,  "  than  live 
by  the  light  we  have  ?  Surely  I  cannot  be  responsible  for  my 
involuntary  ignorance." 

"  How  far  we  may  be  the  cause  of  the  ignorance  we  call 
involuntary,  it  is  impossible  to  determine.  A  wrong  act,  an 
improper  thought,  belonging  to  years  ago  and  even  repented  of 
since,  may  project  its  dark  shadow  into  the  present,  and  pervert 
the  judgment.  We  are  fearfully  made." 

"  Why  pain  yourself,  dearest  father,  with  speculations  of  this 
character  ?  Our  Maker  knows  our  weakness  and  will  pardon 
our  infirmities." 

"  I  am  an  illustration  of  the  subject  of  our  conversation,"  con 
tinued  Armstrong,  after  a  pause  of  a  few  minutes,  during  which 
he  had  remained  meditating,  with  his  head  resting  on  his  hand. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  45 

"  I  know  I  would  not,  willingly,  harshly  judge  another — for  who 
authorized  me  to  pass  sentence  ?  Yet  these  ideas  would  force 
themselves  into  my  mind  ;  and  how  have  I  spoken  of  our  kind 
and  excellent  neighbor  !  There  is  something  wrong  in  myself 
which  I  must  struggle  to  correct." 

We  communicate  only  enough  of  the  conversation  to  give  air 
idea  of  the  state  of  Mr.  Armstrong's  mind  at  the  time.  At  the 
usual  family  devotions  that  night  he  prayed  fervently  for  forgive 
ness  of  his  error,  repeatedly  upbraiding  himself  with  presumption 
and  uncharitableness,  and  entreating  that  he  might  not  be  left 
to  his  own  vain  imaginations. 


46  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

0  !  I  could  whisper  thee  a  tale, 

That  surely  would  thy  pity  move, 
But  what  would  idle  words  avail, 

Unless  the  heart  might  speak  its  love  ? 

To  tell  that  tale  my  pen  were  weak, 

My  tongue  its  office,  too,  denies, 
Then  mark  it  on  my  varying  cheek, 

And  read  it  in  my  languid  eyes. 

ANONYMOUS. 


AFTER  the  expiration  of  a  fortnight,  Pqwnal  could  find  no 
excuses  to  satisfy  even  himself  with  remaining  longer  at  Judge 
Bernard's.  The  visit  had  been,  indeed,  one  of  great  enjoyment, 
and  gladly  would  he  have  availed  himself  of  the  pressing  invi 
tation  of  his  host  to  prolong  it,  could  he  have  conjured  up  any 
reason  for  doing  so.  Lightly  would  he  have  esteemed  and 
cheerfully  welcomed  another  wound  like  that  from  which  he  was 
recovering,  could  the  pleasure  have  been  thus  purchased.  The 
truth  is  that  within  a  few  days  he  had  been  conscious  of  a  feel 
ing  of  which  he  had  never  before  suspected  himself,  and  it  was 
this  feeling  that  made  him  so  reluctant  to  depart.  And  yet, 
when,  in  the  silence  of  his  chamber,  and  away  from  the  blue 
eyes  'of  Anne  Bernard,  he  reflected  upon  his  position,  he  was 
obliged  to  confess,  with  a  sigh,  that  prudence  required  he  should 
leave  a  society  as  dangerous  as  it  was  sweet.  To  be  in  the 
same  house  with  her,  to  breathe  the  same  air,  to  read  the  same 
books,  to  hear  her  voice  was  a  luxury  it  was  hard  to  forego, 
but  in  proportion  to  the  difficulty  was  the  necessity.  Besides 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  47 

he  could  not  avoid  fancying  that  young  Bernard,  though  not 
cold,  was  hardly  as  cordial  as  formerly,  and  that  he  would 
regard  with  satisfaction  a  separation  from  his  sister.  Nor  had 
he  reason  to  suppose  that  she  looked  upon  him  with  feelings 
other  than  those  which  she  entertained  for  any  other  acquain 
tance  standing  to  her  in  the  same  relation  as  himself.  Beyond 
the  ordinary  compliments  and  little  attentions  which  the  man 
ners  of  the  day  permitted,  nothing  had  passed  between  them, 
and  though  satisfied  he  was  not  an  object  of  aversion,  he  knew 
as  well  that  she  had  never  betrayed  any  partiality  for  him. 
Meanwhile,  his  own  feelings  were  becoming  interested  beyond, 
perhaps,  the  power  of  control,  the  sooner,  therefore,  he  weaned 
himself  from  the  delightful  fascination,  the  better  for  his  peace 
of  mind. 

Thomas  Pownal  was  comparatively  a  stranger  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  only  two  or  three  months  having  elapsed  since  he  had 
been  sent  by  the  mercantile  firm  of  Bloodgood,  Pownal,  &  Co., 
of  New  York,  to  take  charge  of  a  branch  of  their  business  at 
Hillsdale.  Even  in  that  short  space  of  time,  by  his  affable 
manners  and  attention  to  business  he  had  won  his  way  to  the 
respect  and  esteem  of  the  good  people  of  the  town,  and  was 
looked  upon  as  one  likely  to  succeed  in  the  lottery  of  life.  No 
one  was  more  welcome,  by  reason  of  his  amiable  character,  to 
those  of  his  own  age,  while  his  steadiness  recommended  him  to 
his  elders.  But  his  family  was  unknown,  though  he  was  sup 
posed  to  be  a  distant  relation  of  the  second  member  of  the 
firm,  nor  had  he  any  visible  means  of  subsistence  except  the 
very  respectable  salary,  which,  as  a  confidential  clerk,  he 
received  from  his  employers,  on  whom  his  prospects  of  success 
depended.  The  chasm,  therefore,  betwixt  the  only  daughter  of 
the  wealthy  Mr.  Bernard  and  himself,  was  wide — wide  enough 
to  check  even  an  overweening  confidence.  But  such  it  was  not 
in  the  nature  of  Pownal  to  feel.  He  was  sensible  of  the  full 


48  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

force  of  the  difficulties  he  had  to  encounter ;  to  his  modesty 
they  seemed  insuperable,  and  be  determined  to  drive  from  his 
heart  a  sentiment  that,  in  his  despondency,  he  blamed  himself 
for  allowing  to  find  a  place  there. 

It  took  him  some  days  to  form  the  resolution,  and  after  it  was 
formed,  it  was  not  easy  to  carry  it  into  effect.  More  than  once 
he  had  been  on  the  point  of  returning  thanks  for  the  kindness 
he  had  received,  and  avowing  his  intention  to  depart,  but  it 
seemed  as  if  the  veriest  trifle  were  sufficient  to  divert  him  from 
his  purpose.  If  Mr.  Bernard  spoke  of  the  satisfaction  he 
derived  from  his  company,  if  Mrs.  Bernard  declared  she  should 
miss  him  when  he  left ;  or  if  Anne's  radiant  face  looked  thanks 
for  his  reading  aloud,  they  were  all  so  many  solicitations  to 
delay  his  departure.  The  treacherous  heart  readily  listened  to 
the  seduction,  however  much  the  judgment  might  disapprove. 
But,  as  we  have  seen,  a  time  had  come  when  the  voice  of  pru 
dence  could  no  longer  be  silenced,  and,  however  unwillingly, 
must  be  obeyed.  He,  therefore,  took  occasion,  one  morning,  at 
the  breakfast  table,  to  announce  his  intended  departure. 

"  Had  I  been  a  son,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "  you  could  not 
have  lavished  more  kindness  upon  me,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
it." 

11  What  !  what  !"  cried  the  Judge,  "  I  am  not  sure  that  the 
shooting  one's  self  is  a  bailable  offence,  and  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
examine  the  authorities,  before  I  discharge  you  from  custody, 
Master  Thomas." 

"To  think,"  said  Mrs.  Bernard,  "it  does  not  seem  a  week 
since  you  came,  and  we  have  all  been  so  happy.  I  declare, 
Mr.  Pownal,  I  shall  not  know  how  to  do  without  you." 

"The  dearest  friends  must  part — but  we  shall  always  be  glad 
to  see  you,  Tom,"  said  William  Bernard. 

"  I  do  not  see  the  necessity  for  your  going,"  said  the  Judge. 
"  Our  house  is  large  enough  for  all ;  your  attacks  at  table  are 


LOST     HUNTER.  49 

not  yet  very  formidable  ;  and  I  have  not  taught  you  whist  per 
fectly.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  substitute  a  curia  vult  avisare 
in  place  of  a  decision  ?  But,  Anne,  have  you  nothing  to  say? 
Is  this  your  gratitude  for  all  Thomas's  martyrdoms  of  readings 
of  I  know  not  what  unimaginable  nonsense  ;  and  holdings  of 
skeins  of  silk,  more  difficult  to  unwind  than  the  labyrinth 
through  which  Ariadne's  thread  conducted  Theseus  ;  and  pick 
ings  up  of  whatever  your  feminine  carelessness  chose  to  drop 
on  the  carpet ;  and  endurance  of  all  the  legions  of  annoyances 
with  which  young  ladies  delight  to  harass  young  gentlemen  ? 
Have  you  no  backing  for  your  mother  and  me  ?  One  word 
from  you  ought  to  be  worth  a  thousand  from  us  old  folks." 

"Mr.  Pownal  owes  me  some  gratitude,  too,  father,"  said 
Anne,  "for  the  patience  and  accomplishments  I  have  taught 
him.  But  he  surely  knows  how  much  pleasure  his  presence  con 
fers  on  all  in  this  house.  We  shall  miss  him  very  much,  shall 
we  not,  Beau  ?"— addressing  a  little  spaniel  that,  upon  being 
spoken  to,  sat  up  on  his  hind  legs  to  beg  for  breakfast. 

"  I  have  several  times  endeavored  to  say  this  before,"  said 
Pownal,  somewhat  piqued,  and  feeling  a  strong  desire  to  kick 
the  innocent  cur  out  of  the  room,  "  but  have  never  been  able  to 
muster  sufficient  courage.  And  now,  if  my  thanks  appear  cold, 
as  I  am  afraid  they  do  to  Miss  Bernard,  I  assure  her  it  is  not 
the  fault  of  my  heart,  but  of  my  tongue." 

"  Hearts  and  tongues  !"  exclaimed  the  Judge.  "  The  former 
belong  to  the  ladies'  department  ;  the  latter  to  mine.  Yet,  I 
fancy  I  know  something  about  hearts,  too  ;  and  yours,  Thomas, 
I  am  sure,  is  adequate  security  for  your  words." 

"  You  are  very  good,  sir,"  said  Pownal,  "  and  I  can  only  wish 
that  all  participated  in  your  undeserved  partiality." 

Anne  was  vexed  with  herself  for  having  spoken  in  so  trifling 
a  manner.  The  frigid  politeness  of  her  brother's  speech,  too,- 
had  not  escaped  her  notice.  It  seemed  to  her  now,  that  she 

3 


50  THELOST      HUNT  ER. 

had  been  wantonly  rude.     She  hastened,  therefore,  to  repair  the 
fault. 

"  Mr.  Povvnal  mistakes,"  she  said,  "  if  he  thinks  me  unmindful 
of  the  pleasant  hours  his  unfortunate  accident  procured  us.  And 

I  am  sure  I  should   be  a  monster  of  ingratitude,"  she  added 
smiling-,  and  relapsing,  in  spite  of  herself,  into  the  very  trifling 
she  had  condemned,  "if  I  did  not  remember,  with  lively  emo 
tions,  his  skill  at  holding  silk  and  yarn." 

"  Well,  whenever  you  want  a  reel,  send  for  me,"  said  Pownal, 

II  and  I  shall  only  be  too  happy  to  come." 

"  Take  care,  my  good  fellow,"  said  the  Judge,  "  she  does  not 
wind  you  up,  too." 

"  I  should  be  too  happy—"  began  Pownal. 

"  For  shame,  father,"  cried  Anne,  laughing,  and  rising  from 
the  table.  "The  young  men  have  quite  spoiled  you,  of  late. 
Good-by  ;  you  have  finished  your  last  cup  of  coffee,  and  have  no 
longer  need  of  me."  So  saying,  she  hastened  out  of  the  room. 

It  was  with  mutual  regret  that  the  parting  took  place,  and 
not  without  many  promises  required  of  the  young  man  that  he 
would  frequently  visit  the  family.  His  landlady,  Mrs.  Brown, 
was,  as  usual,  all  smiles,  and  welcomes,  and  congratulations  on 
his  return  ;  notwithstanding  which,  it  was  with  a  sense  of  loneli 
ness,  amounting  almost  to  desolation,  that  her  lodger  found 
himself  installed  again  in  his  apartments.  It  seemed  like  passing 
out  of  the  golden  sunshine  into  a  gloomy  cavern.  Was  it  pos 
sible  that  two  short  weeks  could  have  produced  so  great  a 
change  in  him?  When  he  thought  upon  the  cause,  the  con 
scious  blush  revealed  its  nature.  "  No,"  said  he,  aloud,  as  he 
paced  backwards  and  forwards  in  the  room,  "  this  is  folly  and 
madness.  For  me,  a  humble  clerk,  to  connect  myself,  even  in 
imagination,  with  her !  What  have  I  to  offer  her  ?  Or  what  even 
1n  prospect  ?  I  have  been  sailing  in  the  clouds,  and  my  tattered 
balloon  is  precipitated  to  the  earth — I  have  been  dreaming. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  51 

How  delicious  was  the  dream  !     But  I  ain  now  awake,  and  will 

never  expose  myself  to  the  mortification  of .     I  have  been 

foolish.  No,  not  so  ;  for,  who  could  come  within  the  range  of 
such  fascinations,  and  not  be  charmed  ?  But  what,  after  all, 
are  they  to  me  ?  I  will  resist  this  weakness,  and  learn  to  regard 
her  as  only  any  other  valued  acquaintance  ;  for,  alas  !  she  can 
never  be  more." 

In  such  incoherent  expressions,  poor  Pownal  gave  vent  to  the 
emotions  that  agitated  him.  It  would  have  been  some  consolation, 
could  he  have  known  what  was  said  at  the  Bernards',  when  the 
family  gathered  around  the  table  in  the  evening.  Mrs.  Bernard 
alluded  more  than  once  to  the  gap  his  absence  made  in  their 
little  circle  ;  and  the  Judge,  in  his  jesting  way,  wished  that 
somebody  would  shoot  him  again,  if  it  might  be  the  means  to 
bring  him  back.  Even  Anne  expressed  regret  at  his  loss,  since 
his  company  had  been  such  a  pleasure  to  her  parents. 


52  THELOSTHUNTER. 


CHAPTER    V. 


"  Groves  freshened,  as  he  looked,  and  flowers 

Showed  bright  on  rocky  bank, 
And  fountains  welled  beneath  the  bowers, 

Where  deer  and  pheasant  drank : 
He  saw  the  glittering  streams,  he  heard 
The  rustling  bough  and  twittering  bird." 


BRYANT. 


THE  mind  of  Ohquamehud  dwelt  upon  his  meeting  with 
Holden.  Sleeping  or  waking,  the  image  of  the  latter  pursued 
him.  But  it  was  not  always  in  the  shape  of  the  Recluse  that 
the  vision  appeared.  More  often  it  assumed  the  form  of  a 
young  man,  in  the  garb  of  a  western  hunter,  with  a  rifle  in  his 
hand.  Then  rose  up,  in  connection  with  him,  boundless  forests, 
through  which  the  deer  stole  noiselessly,  and  the  screech  of  the 
catamount  was  heard.  And  then  again  he  hunted,  and  as  he 
approached  the  game  he  had  shot,  Holden  approached  and 
claimed  it  as  his  ;  or  he  was  on  a  war-path,  and  stumbled 
against  a  log,  and  fell ;  and  as  he  strove  to  rise,  the  log  was 
changed  into  Holden,  who  grappled  him  in  a  death-struggle— 
wherever  he  was,  and  whithersoever  he  turned  his  eyes,  there 
was  the  young  man,  seeming  to  be,  and  yet  not  to  be  Holden, 
and  haunting  him  like  a  shadow.  As  these  imaginations  pos 
sessed  themselves  more  and  more  of  the  Indian's  mind,  he  began 
to  fancy  himself  the  victim  of  some  incantation,  with  which  he 
naturally  connected  the  Recluse  as  the  cause  ;  and,  finally,  by 
continual  brooding  on  the  subject,  both  his  appetite  and  sleep 
deserted  him.  His  moodiness  at  length  attracted  the  attention 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  53 

of  Peena.  Ohquamehud  was  lying  on  the  floor  of  her  hut,  his 
head  resting  on  his  hand,  and  he  had  been  for  some  time  gazing 
in  the  fire.  The  simple  noon-day  meal  had  barely  been  tasted, 
and  that  in  silence. 

"  Have  the  hands  of  Peena,"  she  said,  "  forgot  how  to  pre 
pare  his  food,  that  the  eyes  of  my  brother  turn  away  from  it 
with  displeasure  ?" 

"  The  hands  of  my  sister  have  not  lost  their  skill,  but 
Ohquamehud  is  not  hungry.'7 

"  Ohquamehud  is  a  warrior,  and  Peena  is  but  a  weak 
woman,  and  he  will  not  be  angry,"  she  added,  hesitatingly. 

The  Indian  waved  his  hand,  with  dignity,  as  if  inviting  her  to 
proceed. 

"  Ohquamehud  sees  the  heart  of  his  sister,  and  he  knows  that 
it  loves  him,  for  he  is  the  brother  of  Huttamoiden.  Why  does 
he  cover  up  his  face  from  her,  and  hide  his  grief?  Is  she 
unworthy,"  she  added,  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and 
looking  affectionately  in  his  face,  u  to  listen  to  his  voice  ?" 

He  turned  towards  her,  and  paused  before  he  said — 

"  The  stone  in  the  path  of  Ohquamehud  is  very  small,  and  will 
not  hurt  his  feet." 

"  Peeua,  then,  will  try  to  remove  it.  She  has  strength  to 
move  small  stones." 

She  ceased,  and  continued  looking  at  him,  without  adding  a 
word,  as  if  she  had  said  enough,  and  awaited  a  reply. 

"Why  should  Ohquamehud  speak?"  he  said,  at  last  ;  "the 
breath  of  the  Long  Beard  will  blow  away  his  words." 

A  look  of  vacancy  overspread  the  face  of  the  squaw,  as  if  she 
failed  to  apprehend  his  meaning. 

"  My  brother's  words  are  dark,"  she  said. 

"  Has  not  the  powawing  of  the  Long  Beard  brought  back 
the  spirit  of  Huttamoiden's  cub  from  the  happy  hunting- 


54  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

grounds,  and  does  not,  therefore,  the  face  of  Peena  turn  to  him 
as  the  sun-flower  to  the  sun  ?" 

"The  Great  Spirit  loves  the  Long  Beard,  and  the  Long 
Beard  loves  his  red  brethren." 

"  What !  a  Yenghese  love  an  Indian  ?  Yes,  as  a  wild-cat 
loves  the  deer  when  he  sucks  his  blood,  as  the  water  loves  the 
fire  it  extinguishes.  "The  lips  of  Peena  speak  foolishness." 

"  If  Peena  feel  grateful  to  the  Long  Beard,  why  should  that 
anger  her  brother  ?  Could  he  look  into  her  heart,  he  would  see 
his  face  as  in  a  clear  stream." 

It  was  not  in  human  nature  to  withstand  the  soft  voice  and 
pleading  looks  of  the  woman.  The  momentary  fierceness  passed 
away  from  the  countenance  of  the  Indian,  a  milder  expression 
assumed  its  place,  and,  in  a  gentle  tone,  he  said— 

"  Peena  shall  hear.  She  is  like  a  stone  which,  when  spoken 
to,  repeats  not  what  is  said,  and  not  like  a  brook  that  sings  an 
idle  song.  My  words  shall  enter  her  ears,  but  they  will  not 
descend  to  her  tongue.  Listen!  the  Manitou  has  troubled 
my  thoughts,  and  sent  a  bird  to  tell  me,  that  the  hands  of  the 
Long  Beard  are  red  with  the  blood  of  my  brothers.'7 

"  It  was  a  lying  bird,"  she  exclaimed  vehemently;  "  it  was  an 
owl  that  hooted  untruth  from  the  dark.  When  lifted  the  Long 
Beard  a  hatchet  against  my  tribe  ?" 

"  The  voice  was  as  the  voice  of  the  waterfall,"  he  continued. 
"  It  spoke  indistinctly,  and  I  understood  but  half." 

"Why  should  not  Ohquarnehud  talk  with  the  Long  Beard? 
The  words  of  each  shall  be  sweet  to  the  other,  and  they  will 
learn  to  have  one  heart." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  Indian,  "  Peena  is  a  wise  woman,  and 
Ohquamehud  will  speak  with  the  white  man." 

It  needed  only  the  suggestion  of  the  squaw  to  carry  into  effect 
a  resolution  already  more  than  half  adopted. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  55 

The  Indian  rose,  and  proceeding  to  the  river,  which  was  but 
a  dozen  rods  distant  from  the  hut,  unloosed  a  canoe,  and  direct 
ing  its  course  up  the  stream,  was  lost,  in  a  few  moments,  from 
her  view. 

The  appearance  of  Ohquamehud  indicated  no  hostility  when 
he  presented  himself  before  the  Recluse,  whom  he  found  weaving 
baskets  in  front  of  his  cabin,  nor  did  his  visit  seem  to  surprise 
the  latter.  For  an  instant'  the  Indian  looked  with  disdain  upon 
an  employment  which  his  wild  education  had  taught  him  was  fit 
only  for  women  ;  but  suppressing  the  expression  of  a  sentiment 
that  might  have  interfered  with  his  purpose,  with  a  quiet 
dignity,  and,  as  if  in  answer  to  a  wave  of  Holden's  hand,  he 
seated  himself  on  a  large  stone  by  his  side.  For  a  time  he  was 
silent,  as  if  either  out  of  deference  to  the  superior  years  of  the 
other,  or  because  he  wished  to  collect  his  thoughts  before  he 
began  the  conversation.  Finding,  however,  he  could  obtain 
from  the  Solitary  no  further  sign  of  recognition,  he  spoke  in  his 
own  language. 

"  My  brother  has  a  big  heart.  He  is  making  gifts  for  the 
beautiful  women  of  his  nation." 

"  Indian,"  replied  Holden,  "  think  not  to  deceive  me.  At 
this  moment  thou  considerest  this  an  occupation  unfit  for  a 
man."  * 

"  My  brother  has  very  long  eyes.  They  can  see  the  wood 
pecker  on  the  rotten  tree  across  the  river,  but  they  reach  not 
here,"  laying  his  hand  upon  his  breast.  "The  Holder  of  the 
Heavens  loves  not  to  see  things  alike.  He  therefore  made  the 
leaf  of  the  oak  to  differ  from  that  of  the  hickory,  and  the  pine 
from  both,  and  also  the  white  race  from  the  red.  And,  for  the 
same  reason,  he  taught  the  white  man  to  make  big  lodges  of 
wood,  and  brick  and  stone,  and  to  swim  over  the  waters  in  large 
canoes  with  wings  :  while  to  the  red  man  he  gave  the  forests 
and  prairies,  with  the  deer,  and  bear,  and  buffalo,  and  caused 


56  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

him  to  dwell  in  very  small  wigwams  made  of  bark.  And  so, 
also,  he  taught  my  white  brother  to  weave  beautiful  baskets,  but 
denied  the  skill  to  my  father's  son." 

The  Indian  must  have  supposed  he  had  seriously  offended  his 
new  acquaintance,  to  induce  him  thus  elaborately  to  attempt  to 
avert  his  suspicions.  However  that  might  be,  the  Solitary 
resumed  the  conversation  as  though  he  felt  no  resentment. 

"There  is  wisdom  in  thy  speech.  The  Great  Spirit  loves 
variety,  and  it  is  he  that  rnaketh  men  to  differ.  But  there  was 
once  a  time  many  moons  ago,  when  thy  ancestors  builded  great 
houses  and  dwelt  in  cities,  and  sailed  over  the  seas  in  winged- 
canoes." 

The  Indian  cast  a  quick,  sharp  glance  at  the  Solitary,  as  if  he 
wished  to  read  his  very  soul.  For  a  moment  he  looked  as 
though  he  doubted  the  evidence  of  his  senses.  But  recovering 
his  composure,  he  said  : 

"  The  thoughts  of  my  brother  are  very  high,  and  his  voice 
like  the  sound  of  a  great  wind." 

"Thou  comprehendest  me  not.  Know  then,  Indian,  that 
innumerable  years  ago,  there  lived  far  towards  the  rising  sun, 
twelve  tribes,  called  the  '  Children  of  Israel/  whom  the  Master 
of  Life  greatly  loved.  And  they  had  wise  and  brave  Sacheraa, 
who  led  them  to  battle,  dhd  their  feet  were  red  with  the  blood 
of  their  enemies.  But  they  became  wicked,  and  would  not 
hearken  unto  the  words  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and  He  turned 
his  face  away  from  them.  -So  their  enemies  came  upon  them, 
and  despoiled  them,  and  drove  them  from  the  land.  Two  of  the 
tribes  still  linger  near  the  rising  sun,  but  ten  wandered  far 
away  into  distant  countries,  and  they  are  thy  fathers." 

The  Indian  listened  with  great  attention,  and  upon  the  other 
pausing,  said  : 

"  Has  the  Manitou  told  all  these  things  to  my  brother  ?" 

"  No,  Indian  ;  the  Great  Spirit  speaks  not  now  to  his  people 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  57 

as  he  did  when  the  world  was  young.  But,"  he  added,  as  if 
struck  with  the  folly  of  continuing  a  conversation  of  this  cha 
racter,  "  the  path  is  long  that  led  nie  to  this  truth,  and  it  would 
weary  thy  feet  to  travel  it." 

"  My  brother  is  wise,  and  cannot  lie,  and  I  am  a  child.  My 
ears  drink  in  his  words.  The  legs  of  my  brother  are  long,  and 
he  has  been  a  great  traveller.  Was  it  near  the  rising  sun  he 
learned  the  language  of  the  red  man  ?" 

"  Indian,  I  have  never  been  nearer  the  rising  sun  than  thou. 
But  tell  me  the  object  of  thy  visit.  Why  dost  thou  seek  me 
now,  when  but  a  few  days  since  thou  didst  chide  the  squaw  for 
her  willingness  to  oblige  me  ?" 

"  The  lips  of  Ohquamehud  spoke  folly.  He  did  not  then 
know  that  this  brother  had  talked  to  the  Master  of  Life,  who 
granted  to  him  the  life  of  Huttamoiden's  child.  The  blood  of 
Huttamoiden  runs  in  these  veins." 

The  explanation  was  perfectly  natural,  and  whatever  suspi 
cion  had  arisen  in  Holden's  mind  vanished.  It  seemed  not  sur 
prising  that  the  Indian,  who  also,  by  uttering  his  name,  had 
proclaimed  himself  a  Pequot,  should  be  willing  to  form  the 
acquaintance  of  one  who  had  proved  himself  a  friend  to  his 
tribe,  and  probably  was  invested  in  his  imagination  with  the 
qualities  of  a  "  great  medicine."  But,  though  to  Holden's  high- 
wrought  fancies,  the  recovery  of  the  boy  had  seemed  miracu 
lous,  and  he  could  not  avoid  connecting  his  prayers  with  it,  yet 
he  shrank  from  directly  claiming  so  great  a  power  as  the  Indian 
ascribed  to  him. 

"  The  issues  of  life  and  death  are  with  the  Great  Spirit,"  lie 
said.  "At  his  pleasure  he  breathes  into  our  nostrils,  and  we 
live ;  or  he  turns  away  his  face,  and  we  die.  Let  not  my 
brother  give  too  much  credit  to  a  worm." 

The  wily  Indian,  from  the  other's  altered  tone  and  manner, 
perceived  his  advantage,  and  was  not  slow  to  use  it. 

3* 


58  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"  Because  my  white  brother  loved  his  red  brethren,  he  sought 
them  in  their  lodges,  and  there  they  taught  him  their  language. 
So  wheu  the  boy  was  departing  for  the  happy  hunting  grounds, 
my  brother  remembered  their  kindness,  and  held  the  child  by 
the  hand,  and  would  not  let  him  go." 

The  face  of  the  Solitary  worked  with  emotion  while  the  other 
was  speaking. 

"  Would  that  I  could  explain,"  he  said.  "But  thou  art  unable 
to  understand.  How  canst  thou  know  a  Christian  heart?" 

"The  heart  of  Ohquamehud  is  a  man's." 

"Aye;  but  a  savage  knows  not,  and  despises  forgiveness.  1 
was  a  stately  pine,  whose  branches  mingled  with  the  clouds,  and 
the  birds  came  and  lodged  therein.  And  a  storm  arose,  and 
thunders  rolled,  and  the  lightning  struck  it,  and  its  pride  and 
glory  tumbled  to  the  ground.  And  it  was  burnt  up,  all  save 
this  blasted  trunk."  He  uttered  this  with  a  wild  frenzy,  and  as 
if  hardly  conscious  of  the  presence  of  another. 

"Doth  the  lightning  fall  from  a  clear  sky?"  said  the  Indian, 
after  a  pause.  "It  is  long  since  a  black  cloud  burst  over  the 
ancient  hunting-grounds  of  the  Pequots." 

"  Where  the  streams  run  toward  the  setting  sun,  the  thunder 
bolt  struck.  Why  was  it  not  me  instead  of  those  dearer  to  me 
than  life  ?" 

"  A  bird  hath  sung  to  Ohquamehud  that  the  land  is  pleasant, 
and  the  hunter  only  extends  his  hand  to  find  something  to  savor 
his  broth  and  to  cover  his  feet." 

"It  is  a  land  of  streams,  and  mountains,  and  forests,  and  the 
deer  and  the  bear  still  are  plenty.  When  the  Creator  made  it, 
he  smiled  and  pronounced  it  good ;  and  there,  as  in  your  fabled 
hunting-grounds,  might  men  be  blessed  but  for  their  passions." 

"The  red  man  loves  his  friend,  and  hates  his  enemy." 

"To  hate  is  a  devilish  feeling.  It  comes  not  from  the  Good 
Spirit" 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  59 

Ohquamehud  rose  and  stood  before  Holden.  It  seemed  to 
his  bold  and  ferocious  temper,  that  he  could  not,  without  coward 
ice,  hear  assailed  and  not  vindicate,  a  principle  that  had  been 
inculcated  upon  him  from  youth,  and  formed  a  sacred  portion  of 
his  creed.  As  he  stood  up,  the  blanket  fell  in  graceful  folds 
from  his  shoulders,  around  his  person,  and  he  stretched  out  a  hand 
to  solicit  attention. 

"Listen,"  he  said;  "the  tongue  of  Ohquamehud  is  one:  it 
will  speak  the  truth.  Because  the  Great  Spirit  loved  his  chil 
dren,  he  made  them  to  love  and  to  hate,  and  both  are  pleasant. 
The  south  wind  is  sweet  when  it  comes  in  spring  to  tell  that 
winter  is  past  and  the  starved  Indian  need  no  longer  shiver  over 
the  fire;  and  sweet  are  the  kisses  of  Wullogana  to  Ohquamehud, 
and  dear  are  the  voices  of  his  little  ones  when  they  mee't  him 
from  the  chase,  but  sweeter  than  the  sighs  of  the  wind  of  spring, 
or  the  caresses  of  Wullogana,  or  the  laughter  of  his  children,  is 
it  to  strike  an  enemy.  His  flesh  is  good,  for  it  strengthens  a 
red  heart.  The  wolf  will  never  become  a  lamb,  and  the  wolf  is 
the  totem  of  my  clan.  Ohquamehud  has  said." 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  conflicting  emotions 
of  Holden  during  this  savage  speech.  Whatever  might  have 
been  the  wild  incidents  of  his  youth,  or  whatever  his  wrongs  and 
sufferings,  the  time  was  long  past,  and  he  had  supposed  all 
stormy  passion  subdued,  and  his  heart  chastised  to  resignation 
and  submission.  He  listened  at  first  with  unmixed  horror  to 
the  Indian's  declaration,  but  as  the  savage  went  on,  the  words 
became  more  and  more  indistinct,  till  they  lost  all  meaning  or 
were  converted  into  other  sounds,  and,  as  in  a  dream,  made  the 
aliment  of  his  thoughts.  The  whole  conversation,  and  the  very 
language  in  which  they  spoke,  contributed  to  produce  this  state 
of  mind.  Lost  to  all  around,  his  soul  was  far  away.  He  saw  a 
cabin  beside  a  mountain  torrent,  overshadowed  by  immense 
trees.  It  was  summer,  and  the  birds  were  singing  among  the 


60  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

branches.  The  door  of  the  cabin  opened,  and  a  young  and 
beautiful  white  woman  stepped  out,  holding  a  child  by  the  hand. 
Suddenly  it  was  night,  and  the  cabin  on  fire,  and  he  heard  the 
yells  of  savages,  and  saw  them  like  so  many  demons  dancing- 
round  the  flames;  then  hush,  all  again  was  still,  and  darkness 
brooded  over  the  spot,  lighted  only  by  a  flickering  brand. 

The  bosom  of  Holden  heaved  convulsively,  and  his  brain 
reeled. 

The  Indian  watched  his  changing  countenance  with  an  eager 
look  as  if  he  revelled  in  his  agony.  Not  a  hard  drawn  breath, 
not  a  siagle  expression  escaped  his  notice.  He  saw  the  eyes  of 
the  Solitary  flash,  then  settle  into  a  dreamy  gaze  as  if  looking 
into  a  dim,  unfathomable  distance,  then  shut,  as  if  he  tried  to 
exclude  some  horrid  sight.  Suddenly,  with  a  shudder,  Holden 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Accursed  Shawnees,"  he  cried;  "  they  have  done  this  deed. 
But  for  every  drop  of  blood  they  shed  a  river  shall  flow.  Dog!" 
and  he  seized  the  Indian  with  a  strength  to  which  madness  lent 
additional  force,  and  dashed  him  to  the  ground,  "thou  art  first 
delivered  into  my  hand." 

He  staggered  toward  the  fallen  man — stopped — glared  at 
him  a  moment  and  with  a  wild  cry  rushed  into  the  hut. 

The  Indian,  who  had  immediately  risen  from  the  fall,  and 
stood  with  folded  arms  regarding  his  motions,  slowly  gathered 
up  his  disordered  blanket  about  him  and  stalked  towards  the 
canoe.  A  gleam  of  ferocity  shot  over  his  face  as  he  resumed 
the  paddle,  and  softly  breathing  the  single  word  "  Onoritio," 
pushed  from  the  shore. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  61 


CHAPTER  VI. 

I  will  pursue  to  death  this  spiteful  knight : 
Not  earth's  low  centre,  nor  sea's  deepest  part, 

Nor  heaven,  nor  hell,  can  shield  him  from  my  might : 
I  will  o'ertake  him,  take  him,  cleave  his  heart. 

FAIRFAX'  TASSO. 

THE  suspicions  of  the  Indian  were  confirmed  beyond  a  doubt. 
It  was,  perhaps,  the  voice  and  accent  of  the  Solitary  in  his 
native  tongue  that  at  first  attracted  his  attention  and  induced 
him  to  try  the  experiment  which  resulted  as  we  have  seen.  He 
must  have  had  or  fancied  that  he  had  a  cause  of  deadly  hatred 
of  long  standing  against  Holden.  It  is  impossible  otherwise  to 
explain  his  conduct.  But  no  length  of  time  can  erase  the  recol 
lection  of  an  injury  from  the  mind  of  a  North  American  Indian. 
He  cherishes  it  as  something  never  to  be  parted  with,  and 
would  feel  degraded  in  his  own  estimation  were  he  to  forgive. 
Revenge  is  the  central  sun  round  which  his  spirit  revolves  ;  and 
to  gratify  the  feeling  no  hardships  are  too  severe.  For  such  a 
purpose  he  will  traverse,  with  an  unerring  instinct,  pathless 
forests  for  hundreds  of  miles,  swim  wide  rivers,  climb  lofty 
mountains,  sleep,  unrepining,  on  the  bare  ground,  exposed  to 
all  vicissitudes  of  heat  and  cold,  supporting  himself  by  the  chase 
and  fishing,  and  sustained  throughout  by  his  vindictive  passion 
and  the  glory  he  connects  with  its  gratification.  The  kindness 
shown  by  Holden  to  his  sister  and  her  sou,  and  the  reverence 
with  which  she  regarded  him,  it  might  be  expected  would  have 
influenced  Ohquamehud  ;  but  they  had  no  such  effect.  To  the 


62  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

kindness  he  ascribed  Q  sinister  motive  ;  and,  of  course,  Peena's 
gratitude  was  misplaced.  It  was  therefore  with  a  fiendish  joy 
unalloyed  by  misgivings,  that  he  brooded  over  the  means  to 
accomplish  his  purpose. 

He  dared  not  communicate  it  to  Peena.  He  understood  her 
gentle  nature  too  well  to  suppose  that,  under  any  circumstances, 
she  could  sympathize  with  him,  even  though  she  felt  no  sense  of 
obligation  to  Holdeti  ;  and,  besides,  he  distrusted  her  as  one 
who  had  abandoned  the  faith  of  her  fathers.  For,  although  no 
Christian  in  the  proper  import  of  the  word,  the  sweet  and  puri 
fying  influences  of  Christianity  had  not  been  wholly  thrown  away 
upon  Peena.  She  had  many  friends  in  the  neighboring  village 
who  had  been  attracted  by  her  gentle  temper  and  modesty,  con 
spicuous  among  whom  was  Faith  Armstrong.  Hence,  when  she 
came  to  the  village,  as  not  unfrequently  was  the  case,  in  order  to 
sell  the  berries  she  had  gathered  in  the  fields,  or  pretty  baskets 
stained  with  such  lively  colors  as  the  simple  skill  of  the  Indians 
knew  how  to  extract  from  roots  and  the  bark  of  trees,  it  seldom 
happened  that  she  returned  without  having  made  Faith  a  visit. 
On  such  occasions  the  enthusiastic  girl  would  strive  to  inform 
her  on  points  of  religion  which,  to  her  own  mind,  were  of  the 
highest  importance.  Peena  would  listen,  and  never  contradict, 
though,  it  is  probable,  she  understood  but  little  of  what  to 
Faith's  apprehension  was  clear. 

It  was  impossible,  however,  not  to  derive  benefit  from  such 
meetings.  None  could  be  in  the  presence  of  Faith  without 
being  influenced  by  the  atmosphere  of  goodness  in  which  she 
moved.  And.  indeed,  that  she  herself  derived  pleasure  from  the 
presence  of  Peena,  was  evidence  of  the  gentle  worth  of  the  latter. 

No  wonder  then  that  Ohquamchud  determined  to  conceal  his 
fell  purpose  in  his  own  heart.  When,  therefore,  with  the  quiet 
step  peculiar  to  his  race,  he  glided  into  her  hut,  just  before  the 
setting  of  the  sun,  he  had  chased  the  traces  of  passion  from  his 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  63 

brow,  and  met  her  with  a  calm  and  satisfied  mien.  So  perfect 
was  the  dissimulation  that  even  one  less  guileless  than  the 
woman  would  have  been  deceived.  In  the  present  case,  the 
preoccupation  of  her  mind  in  Holden's  favor  made  it  easier. 

"My  brother,"  she  said,  with  a  pleased  expression,  as  she 
caught  sight  of  his  altered  appearance,  "is  like  the  sky  in  sum 
mer  when  not  a  cloud  is  to  be  seen." 

"  The  cloud  has  left  the  sky  of  Ohquamehud." 

This  was  said  with  a  natural  and  easy  air,  as  if  all  suspicion 
were  banished  from  his  mind  ;  nor  was  the  subject  further 
adverted  to.  t 

The  time  at  which  the  children  of  nature  retire  to  rest,  is  not 
that  observed  by  the  artificially-cultivated  man.  For  them,  the 
hours  of  light  and  darkness  mark  out  the  periods  for  action  and 
repose.  It  was  then  still  early  in  the  evening,  when  a  heavy 
breathing  in  the  hut  of  Peena  indicated  the  sleep  of  its  inmates. 
Ohquamehud  had  listened  for  it,  and  having  waited  until  the 
breathing  became  deep  and  full  to  assure  him  of  the  profound 
ness  of  the  slumber,  he  sat  up  on  his  couch  and  looked  cau 
tiously  around.  The  brands  were  smouldering  in  the  ashes  with 
a  dim  flickering  light,  but  sufficient  to  direct  and  give  certainty 
to  his  movements.  With  a  step  so  noiseless  that  the  acutest  ear 
would  not  have  detected  it,  he  crossed  the  floor,  took  his  rifle 
from  the  corner  where  it  had  been  placed,  with  equal  caution 
opened  the  door,  and  stood  in  the  open  air. 

It  was  a  clear  star-lit  night,  and  on  the  placid  bosom  of  the 
water  shone  one  star  larger  and  brighter  than  the  rest,  as  if  to 
light  him  on  his  way.  But  it  was  all  unobserved  by  the  Indian. 
He  had  no  eyes,  no  ears,  no  senses,  except  for  the  crime  he  was 
about  to  commit.  To  him,  no  crime,  but  a  heroic  act.  Slowly, 
and  measuring  each  step  as  though  a  thousand  ears  were  listen 
ing,  he  proceeded  in  the  direction  of  the  canoe,  untied  it,  and 
softly  pushed  it  into  the  stream.  As  he  took  his  seat  the  dip 


64  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

of  his  paddle  made  no  sound,  and  thus,  stern  as  an  iron  statue, 
and  almost  as  still,  he  paddled  on. 

And  now  Ohquamehud  approached  the  island.     He  stopped 

his  paddle  and  held  his  breath,  and  listened.     Not  a  livin^ 

sound  was   to    be   heard,  not  even  the   cry  of  a  night   bird  ; 

nothing  save  the  spft  flowing  of  the  water  against  the  shore. 

Like  an  eagle  circling  round  and  round  before  he  pounces  on  his 

quarry,    the    Indian    cautiously   paddled   around   the    island. 

From  one  of  the  windows,  before  concealed,  he  saw  a  light. 

Keeping  at  a  distance,  so  that  the  rays  should  not  fall  upon 

him,  he  stole  around  until  he  had  interposed  the  hut  between 

himself  and  its   beams.     Then,  apparently  satisfied  there  was 

nothing  to  be  feared,  he  directed  the  canoe  towards  the  island, 

and  slowly  advanced  until  its  bottom  touched  the  sand,  when  he 

sat  still  and  listened  again.    Hearing  nothing,  he  left  the  canoe, 

and  crouching  down,  crept  towards  the  cabin.     Having  reached 

it,  he   applied   his   ear   to   the   side   and   listened,   and  again 

advanced.     Thus  slowly  proceeding,  some  little  time  elapsed 

before  he  found  himself  at  the  window  whence  streamed  the 

light.     Without  venturing  to  touch  the  wooden  boards,  as  if 

fearful  they  might  communicate  a  knowledge  of  his  presence,  he 

raised  himself  almost  imperceptibly  at  the  edge  of  the  window, 

until  he  obtained  a  view  of  the  interior.     Holden  was  sitting  at 

a  distance  of  not  more  than  six  feet,  near  a  small  table,  on 

which  a  single  candle  was  burning,  and  in  his  lap  lay  a  large 

opened  book,   on  which  his  folded  hands  were  resting.      He 

seemed  lost  in  meditation,  gazing  into  the  wood-tire  before  him, 

towards  which  his  crossed  legs  were  extended  at  full  length. 

The  Indian  slid  his  hand  down  to  the  lock  of  the  gun,  and 
drew  back  the  trigger.  Cautiously  as  it  was  done,  he  could  not 
prevent  a  slight  clicking  sound,  which,  perhaps,  struck  the  car 
of  the  Solitary,  for  he  turned  his  head  and  moved  in  the  chair. 
The  Indian  slunk  to  the  edge  of  the  window,  so  as  to  conceal 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  65 

his  person  from  any  one  within  the  room,  and  remained  motion 
less.  Presently  he  advanced  his  head,  and  took  another  view. 
The  Solitary  had  resumed  his  former  position,  and  was  buried  in 
profound  thought.  The  Indian  stepped  back  a  couple  of  steps, 
so  as  to  allow  the  necessary  distance  between  himself  and  the 
window,  and  raised  the  rifle  to  his  shoulder. 

At  that  instant  and  just  as  he  was  about  to  discharge  the 
deadly  weapon,  a  large  rattle-snake,  attracted  by  the  warmth, 
or  for  some  other  reason,  glided  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
hut  towards  the  outstretched  limbs  of  Holden,  over  which  it 
crawled,  and  resting  its  body  upon  them,  with  upraised  head 
seemed  to  fasten  its  eyes,  glittering  in  the  fire-light,  full  upon 
the  face  of  the  startled  Indian.  The  effect  was  instantaneous. 
The  rifle  nearly  dropped  from  his  uplifted  hands,  a  cold  sweat 
burst  from  every  pore,  his  knees  shook,  and  his  eyes,  fixed  on 
the  snake  by  a  fascination  that  controlled  his  will,  felt  bursting 
from  their  sockets.  After  preserving  its  attitude  for  a  short 
time,  the  snake,  as  if  taking  Holden  under  its  protection,  coiled 
itself  around  his  feet,  and  lay  with  its  head  resting  on  his  shoe, 
looking  into  the  fire.  As  the  snake  turned  away  its  bright 
eyes  the  spell  that  bound  the  Indian  was  dissolved.  An 
expression  of  the  deepest  awe  overspread  his  countenance,  his 
lips  moved,  but  emitted  no  sound,  and  cautiously  as  he  had 
advanced  he  returned  to  the  canoe,  and  was  soon  swallowed  up 
in  the  darkness. 

The  abstraction  of  Holden  must  have  been  deep  and  long, 
lor  upon  recovering  from  his  reverie,  the  reptile  was  gone. 
Without  his  consciousness  it  had  come,  and  without  his  con 
sciousness  departed  ;  and  when  he  laid  the  Bible,  in  which  he 
had  been  reading,  upon  the  table,  he  knew  not  either  the  danger 
ho  had  escaped,  or  the  means  by  which  it  had  been  averted. 

]^or  let  the  conduct  of  Ohquamehud  excite  surprise.  An 
American  Indian,  he  was  susceptible  to  the  influence  of  the 


66  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

legends  and  traditions  of  his  race.  Among  them  are  some 
inculcating  a  superstitious  reverence  for  certain  animals.  The 
bear,  for  instance,  is  regarded  by  some  tribes  as  a  sort  of  rela 
tion,  and  when  the  necessity  of  hunger  compels  them  to  kill 
him,  they  apologize,  and  beg  him  not  to  be  angry.  The  rattle 
snake  again  is  an  object  of  great  respect.  Supplied  with  a 
deadly  venom  that  makes  him  the  most  formidable  of  enemies, 
he  never  attacks  unless  first  injured,  and  then,  if  he  can  reach 
his  foe,  his  vengeance  is  sure.  On  his  trail  he  disdains  conceal 
ment,  but  with  the  rattles  nature  has  provided  to  announce  his 
approach,  apprises  all,  that  they  may  remove  themselves  out  of 
his  way.  Indeed,  he  comprehends  within  himself  those  quali 
ties  most  valued  by  the  Indians,  and  is  the  type  of  a  brave  war 
rior.  When,  therefore,  at  such  an  hour  and  such  a  place,  the 
reptile  made  its  appearance,  and  first  darting  its  fiery  glances  at 
the  Pequot,  quietly  and,  as  if  scorning  and  defying  the  danger, 
laid  itself  caressingly  on  the  limbs  of  Holden,  it  seemed  to  the 
astonished  Indian  that  the  snake  knew  his  purpose,  and  angrily 
ordered  him  to  desist.  Vain,  he  thought,  would  it  be  to  assail 
one  so  protected,  nor  was  he  willing  to  incur  the  mysterious 
enmity  of  the  snake.  How  its  power  might  be  displayed, 
whether  in  striking  him  dead  on  the  spot,  or  in  laming  his  limbs, 
or  defeating  his  success  in  hunting,  or  what  other  dreadful  man 
ner,  he  knew  not,  but  he  was  convinced  that  some  awful  punish 
ment  would  follow  disobedience.  He  thought  it,  therefore, 
more  prudent  to  yield  for  the  present,  and  wait  till  he  had  pro 
pitiated  the  snake,  or  it  had  withdrawn  its  protection.  As  long 
as  that  lasted  Onontio  was  beyond  his  power.  Not  that 
vengeance  was  forborne  ;  it  was  only  postponed. 

Of  such  a  character  were  the  thoughts  that  darted  through 
the  mind  of  the  Pequot  when  frightened  from  his  purpose,  aim 
in  less  time  than  it  has  taken  to  record  them,  as  with  drooping 
head  he  pursued  his  lonely  way.  Even  what  he  considered  the 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  67 

interposition  of  a  supernatural  power,  had  not  shaken  the 
determination  of  his  spirit.  The  desire  for  revenge  had  been 
too  long  cherished  to  be  given  up  at  a  single  warning,  however 
awful,  or  however  strongly  appealing  to  the  deepest  implanted 
superstitions. 


68  THELOSTHUNTEB. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

;  Arma,  virumque  cano  qui  Primus." 


VIRGIL. 


THE  season  had  now  advanced  to  within  a  few  days  of  that 
joyous  period  of  the  year,  when  the  Governors  of  the  several 
New  England  States  are  wont  to  call  the  people  to  a  public 
acknowledgment  of  the  favors  of  Divine  Providence.  At  the 
time  of  which  we  write,  their  Excellencies  required  the  citizens 
to  be  thankful  "  according  to  law,"  and  "  all  servile  labor  and 
vain  recreation,"  on  said  day,  were  "by  law  forbidden,"  and  not, 
as  at  present,  invited  them  to  assemble  in  -their  respective 
churches,  to  unite  in  an  expression  of  gratitude  to  their 
Heavenly  Benefactor.  Whether  the  change  from  a  command 
to  an  invitation,  or  permission  to  engage  in  the  sports  which 
were  before  forbidden,  has  been  attended  with  any  evil  conse 
quences,  we  leave  to  the  individual  judgment  of  our  readers  to 
determine.  But  whether  commanded  or  invited,  the  people 
always  welcomed  the  season  of  festivity  with  preaching  and 
praying,  and  an  indiscriminate  slaughter  of  all  the  fat-turkeys 
and  chickens  on  which  they  could  lay  their  hands. 

The  yellow  and  crimson  maple  leaf  had  faded  on  the  trees 
into  more  sombre  colors,  or,  falling  to  the  ground,  been  whirled 
by  the  wind  among  heaps  of  other  leaves,  where  its  splendor  no 
more  attracted  attention.  Of  the  gaiety  of  autumn,  only  the 
red  bunches  of  the  sumach  were  left  as  a  parting  present  to 
welcome  winter  in.  The  querulous  note  of  the  quail  had  long 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  69 

been  heard  calling  to  his  truant  mate,  and  reproaching  her  for 
wandering  from  his  jealous  side  ;  the  robins  had  either  sought  a 
milder  climate  or  were  collected  in  the  savin-bushes,  in  whose 
evergreen  branches  they  found  shelter,  and  on  whose  berries 
they  love  to  feed  ;  and  little  schoolboys  were  prowling  about, 
busy  collecting  barrels  for  Thanksgiving  bon-fires. 

It  was  a  beautiful  clear  morning  in  Thanksgiving-week,  when 
a  side  gate,  that  admitted  to  the  yard  or  inclosure  in  front  of 
Mr.  Armstrong's  house,  opened,  and  a  negro,  with  a  round 
good-natured  face,  and  rather  foppishly  dressed,  stepped  out 
upon  the  walk.  But,  before  paying  our  respects  to  Mr.  Felix 
Qui,  it  may  not  be  altogether  amiss  to  give  some  description  of 
the  house  of  Mr.  Armstrong,  as  representing  the  better  class  of 
dwelling-houses  in  our  villages,  at  the  time. 

It  was  a  large,  two-story  wood  building,  painted  white,  with 
green  blinds,  and  consisted  of  a  main  body  nearly  fifty  feet 
square,  in  which  were  the  apartments  for  the  family,  and  of  an 
L,  as  it  was  called,  from  the  shape  it  gave  the  building,  run 
ning  back,  and  devoted  to  the  kitchen  and  sleeping  chambers  of 
the  servants.  The  height  of  the  stories  in  this  L  was  some 
what  less  than  in  the  front  part  of  the  house,  indicating  thereby, 
perhaps,  the  more  humble  relation  in  which  it  stood  to  the  lat 
ter.  Three  large  chimneys  rose  above  the  roof,  two  from  the 
principal  building  and  one  from  the  kitchen.  A  wide  hall  in 
the  centre,  swept  through  the  whole  length  without  interference 
from  the  rear  building,  which  might  be  considered  as  a  continua 
tion  of  somewhat  less  than  one-half  of  the  part  in  front. 
The  wood-house  stood  on  the  same  side  as  the  kitchen,  some 
twenty  feet  distant  ;  and  still  further  back,  a  large  barn,  also  of 
wood,  and  painted  a  light  lead  color,  with  the  exception  of  the 
cornice  and  trimmings  about  the  doors  and  windows,  which 
were  white.  The  house  itself  stood  some  fifty  feet  back  from 
the  high  road,  and  was  surrounded  by  enormous  elms,  those 


70  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

glories  of  the  cultivated  American  landscape,  some  measuring 
four  and  five  feet  in  diameter,  and  throwing  their  gracefully 
drooping  branches  far  and  high  over  the  roof,  to  which,  in  the 
heat  of  summer,  they  furnished  an  acceptable  shade.  The  pros 
pect  in  front,  and  looking  between  two  rows  of  maples  that 
lined  the  road,  comprehended  the  Yaupaae,  expanded  into  a 
lake,  green  fields  and  apple  orchards  running  down  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  hills,  clothed  to  the  top  with  verdure,  rolling 
away  like  gigantic  waves  into  the  distance.  Behind  the  house 
was  a  garden  and  orchard  of,  perhaps,  two  acres,  terminating  in 
a  small  evergreen  wood  of  hemlocks  and  savins,  interspersed 
with  a  few  noble  oaks.  Mr.  Armstrong  had  laid  out  several 
winding  paths  through  this  little  wood,  and  placed  here  and 
there  a  rustic  seat  ;  and  the  taste  of  his  daughter  had  embel 
lished  it  with  a  few  flowers.  Here  Faith  had  taught  the  moss 
pink  to  throw  its  millions  of  starry  blossoms  in  early  spring 
over  the  moist  ground,  after  the  modest  trailing  arbutus,  from 
its  retreat  beneath  the  hemlocks,  had  exhausted  its  sweet 
breath  ;  here,  later  in  the  season,  the  wild  columbine  wondered 
at  the  neighborhood  of  the  damask  rose  ;  here,  in  the  warm 
days  of  summer,  or  in  the  delicious  moonlight  evenings,  she  loved 
to  wander,  either  alone  or  with  her  father,  in  its  cool 
paths. 

Still  more  beautiful  than  the  prospect  from  the  front  door, 
were  the  views  from  this  charming  spot.  Rising  to  a  consider 
able  elevation  above  the  river  to  which  it  descended  with  a 
rapid  slope,  it  commanded  not  only  the  former  view  to  the 
south,  though  more  extended,  but  also  one  to  the  northwest. 
Beneath,  at  a  depression  of  eighty  feet,  lay  the  lake-like  river 
with  its  green  islets  dotting  the  surface,  while,  at  a  short  dis 
tance,  the  Fall  of  the  Yaupaae  precipitated  itself  over  a  rocky 
declivity,  mingling,  in  the  genial  season  of  the  year,  a  noble 
bass  with  the  songs  of  birds  and  the  sighing  of  the  wind,  and 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  71 

adding  to  and  deepening  in  the  rougher  months,  the  roar  of  the 
tempest.  A  small  stream  diverted  from  the  river,  turned  the 
wheel  of  a  moss-grown  grist-mill,  which  was  nestled  under  large 
willows  at  the  foot  of  the  rocks,  and  conveyed  the  idea  of  the 
presence  of  man,  without  detracting  from  the  wild  beauty  of  the 
scenery. 

Now,  alas,  how  is  all  changed  !  Hcu !  quantum  mutatus  ab 
iilo  Hectare !  The  grist-mill  has  disappeared  !  A  row  of 
willows  which  skirted  the  road  that  winding  by  the  margin  of 
the  cove,  led  to  it,  has  been  cut  down  ;  and  huge  brick  and 
stone  factories  of  paper  and  cotton  goods,  gloomy  and  stern- 
like  evil  genii,  brood  over  the  scene,  and  all  through  the  day 
and  into  the  night,  with  grinding  cylinders,  and  buzzing  spindles 
and  rattling  looms, .  strive  to  drown,  with  harsh  discords,  the 
music  of  the  waterfall.  One  of  the  little  islands  has  been  joined 
to  the  main  land  with  gravel  carted  into  the  river,  and  a  bleach- 
house  or  some  other  abomination  erected  upon  it.  The  place 
is  disenchanted.  The  sad  Genius  of  Romance  who  once  loved 
to  stretch  his  limbs  upon  the  mossy  rocks,  and  catch  inspiration 
from  watching  the  foam  and  listening  to  the  roar,  has  departed 
with  a  shriek,  never  to  return. 

Felix,  when  he  found  himself  outside  of  the  gate,  gazed  up 
and  down  the  street,  as  if  uncertain  in  which  direction  to  pro 
ceed.  After  a  momentary  hesitation,  and  drawing  a  pair  of 
gloves  over  his  hands,  he  seemed  to  have  made  up  his  mind,  and 
at  a  lounging  pace,  directed  his  course  up,  that  is  towards  the 
north.  He  had  not  gone  far  when  he  saw  coming  towards  him 
a  person  of  his  own  color,  who  until  then  had  been  hid  by  a 
turn  in  the  road.  ]N"o  one  else  was  in  sight,  the  spot  being  the 
piece  of  table-land  mentioned  in  a  previous  chapter,  about  a  half 
mile  from  the  thickly  settled  part  of  the  town,  which  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  near  the  confluence  of  the  rivers.  Here  were 
no  shops  or  public  buildings,  but  only  private  residences  from 


72  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

thirty  to  fifty  rods  apart,  and  inhabited  by  a  few  families  a  little 
wealthier,  perhaps,  for  the  most  part,  than  the  others. 

It  was  a  man,  still  hale  and  hearty,  though  what  his  age  was 
it  might  be  difficult  to  say.  He  might  have  been  sixty  or  even 
seventy.  The  African  race  does  not  betray  the  secret  of  age 
as  readily  as  the  white.  Probably  the  man  did  not  know  him 
self,  nor  is  it  of  importance.  He  moved  with  a  jerk,  and  upon 
a  nearer  approach  it  appeared  that  the  lower  part  of  one  of  his 
legs  was  made  of  wood.  He  must  have  been,  however,  long- 
accustomed  to  it,  for  as  he  moved  rather  sedately  along,  it 
seemed  to  occasion  him  but  little  inconvenience.  When  suffi 
ciently  near,  Felix,  touching  his  cap  with  great  politeness,  bade 
him  good  morning,  by  the  title  of  General.  But  who  our  new 
acquaintance  is,  we  may  as  well  tell  here  as  anywhere  else. 

The  old  negro,  then  approaching,  was  one  of  those,  the 
number  of  whom,  although  small  compared  with  that  of  the 
white  troops  engaged  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  was  still 
considerable  enough  not  to  be  entirely  overlooked.  His  name 
was  Primus  Ransome,  and  at  an  early  period  he  had  enlisted 
into  the  army,  and  served  until  disabled  by  the  loss  of  a  leg, 
when  he  found  himself  in  rags,  with  an  excellent  character  for 
bravery  and  general  good  conduct,  minus  the  member  left  at 
Yorktown,  and  a  candidate  for  any  such  bounty  as  the 
xhausted  means  of  the  country  and  the  liberality  of  Congress 
alight  grant.  He  contrived  somehow  to  return  to  the  town  of 
Hillsdale.  where,  in  a  checkered  life,  he  had  happened  to  pass 
two  or  three  of  his  happiest  years,  and  there  prepared  to  enjoy 
that  liberty  he  had  helped  to  achieve.  His  good  character, 
cheerful  temper,  and  the  services  he  had  performed  made  him  a 
general  favorite.  Yet,  notwithstanding,  he  found  it  at  first 
hard  to  get  along.  His  military  habits  had  incapacitated  him 
for  long  continued  industry,  and  an  invitation  to  a  social  glass 
or  an  opportunity  to  tell  one  of  his  campaigning  stories,  was  at 


THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


any  time  temptation  sufficient  to  wile  him  away  from  labor 
There  was  110  gentleman's  kitchen  where  Primus  was  not  treated 
with  kindness,  and  where  he  did  not  receive  all  he  asked,  bat  he 
had  some  pride,  and  was  unwilling  to  abuse  the  offered  hospi 
tality.     Thus,  working  a  little  at  digging  in  gardens  and  cutting 
wood  and  such  other  odd  jobs  as  he  could  obtain,  and  making 
calls  at  the  kitchens,  and  telling  long  stories  about  Monmouth, 
and  Trenton,  and  the  siege  of  Yorktown,  what  with  the  money 
he  got,  and  the  presents  made  him  at  Thanksgiving  and  Christ 
mas,  and  other  odd  times,  Primus   roughed  it   along,  after  a 
fashion,  until  Congress  found  itself  in  a  condition  to  give  him  a 
pension.     It  came  late  to  be  sure,  and  was  small,  but  then  so 
were  his  wants.     It  was  regularly  paid  and  certain,  and  joined 
to  the  advantages  he  already  possessed,  constituted  an  ample 
fortune.     Before  he  got  his  pension,  poor  Primus  would  some 
times  cast  a  rueful  glance   at  his  wooden    leg,   and   think  to 
himself  he  had  paid  a  pretty  dear  price  for  independence  ;  and 
at  such  times,  it  must  be  confessed,  his  patriotism  ran  to  a  low 
ebb.     He  knew  no  Latin,  and  therefore  could  not  say,  "  sic  vos 
non  vobis,"  &c.,  yet  he  thought  it.     But  after  he  obtained  his 
little  annuity,  the  love  of  country  of  the  Horatii  or  Curiatii  was 
frigid  to  his.     He  was  never  weary  of  boasting  of  its  freedom, 
of  its  greatness,  and  of  General  Washington.     It  was  observed 
that  as  he  grew  older  his   stories   became   longer   and   more 
incredible,  and  his  patriotism  hotter.     His  own  personal  exploits 
too,  occupied  a  wider  space  in  his  narratives.     To  believe  him, 
the  number  of  British  and  Hessians  conquered  by  his  single  arm 
would  have  composed  a  regiment  ;  and,  indeed,  it  was  difficult 
to  conceive  how  the  struggle  could  have  been  brought  to  a  suc 
cessful  issue  without  his  assistance. 

"  Good  morning,  General,"  said  Felix,  politely  touching  his 
cap. 

"Good   marning,   Missa  Qui.     I  hope  I   see  you  well  dis 

4 


74  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

pleasant  rnarning.     How  Miss  Rosa  ?"  inquired  Primus,  at  the 
same  time  making  a  military  salute  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 

"  Miss  Rosa  is  well,  thank  you,  sir.  As  for  this  genlman,  he 
is  always  well,"  said  Felix,  laying  his  hand  on  his  breast. 

"  Fine  day  for  walking,  sir.  Sorry  you  going  de  oder  way, 
Missa  Qui.  Suppose  you  hab  business." 

"  I  walk  out  for  the  exercise.  I  have  not  take  exercise 
enough  lately  for  the  health." 

At  this  moment  the  eye  of  Primus  caught  sight  of  a  white 
piece  of  paper  sticking  out  of  a  corner  of  Felix's  pocket,  and 
he  suspected  the  errand  on  which  the  latter  was  sent,  so  he 
added  : 

"You  celumbrate  Tanksgiving  in  de  usual  style  at  your 
house  dis  year,  I  presume." 

"  Some  witch  tell  you,  General.     Haw,  haw  1" 

"De  ole  chimbly  smoke  extrorninary  at  dis  season.  De 
chickens  and  de  turkies  know  dat  chimbly  well." 

"  Guess  they  do,"  said  Felix.  "  General  Ransome,  can  you 
keep  a  secret  ?" 

"  I  is  close  as  Missa  Pint  pocket,  dat  button  all  round,"  said 
the  old  negro. 

"Then  I  have  no  objections  to  tell  you,  General,  that  I  give 
out  some  invite  this  morning  to  ladies  and  genlmen  to  take  din 
ner  at  my  house,  Thanksgiving  Day." 

"Hab  you  one  for  me?" 

"  Look  for  yourself,  sir,"  said  Felix,  pulling  out  two  or  three 
billets  from  the  left  pocket  of  his  waistcoat,  and  presenting 
them  to  the  other.  "You  sociate  with  General  Washington 
and  all  the  great  men,  and  read  writing,  sure." 

Primus  took  the  billets  into  his  hands,  and  ran  his  eye  over 
the  superscriptions,  with  an  air  of  the  most  perfect  confidence, 
then,  shaking  bis  head,  returned  them  to  Felix,  observing : 
"  Dere  is  none  here  for  me." 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  f5 

"Perhaps  there  is  one  for  you  in  this  pocket,"  continued 
Felix,  fumbling  on  the  other  side,  and  producing  another  billet. 
Primus  looked,  but  shook  his  head  as  before.  '•'  Have  the 
extreme  goodness,"  said  Felix,  who  began  to  be  considerably 
mystified  by  the  serious  air  of  the  other,  and  half-disposed  to 
believe  that  he  might  have  some  knowledge  of  the  mystic  cha 
racters,  "  to  tell  me  who  this  little  note  is  intend  for." 

Primus  knew  very  well  the  intimate  relations  existing 
between  the  families  of  the  Armstrongs  and  Bernards,  and  that 
the  former  often  took  their  Christmas  dinner  with  the  latter, 
while  again  the  Armstrongs  reciprocated  the  civility  by  invit 
ing  the  Bernards,  who  were  Episcopalians,  to  the  feast  of 
Thanksgiving.  Moreover,  he  had  met  Felix  going  in  a  direc 
tion  towards  the  house  of  Mr.  Bernard,  which  was  close  by. 
Putting  these  circumstances  together,  the  old  soldier  thought 
that  he  might  venture  a  guess,  which,  if  it  succeeded,  would 
redound  greatly  to  the  credit  of  his  learning,  and,  which,  if  it 
failed,  could  entail  on  him  no  other  harm  than  the  laugh  of 
Felix.  Assuming,  therefore,  a  knowing  look,  he  said  : 

"  Dat  is  berry  easy  to  read.  Any  man  wid  any  laming  at 
all,  can  see  de  billet  is  intend  for  Missa  Judge  Bernard."  He 
saw  by  the  distended  eyes  of  Mr.  Qui  that  his  guess  had  struck 
the  mark,  and  fearful  of  being  requested  to  decipher  the  other 
superscriptions,  hastily  added  : 

"  But  what  for  I  stop  here,  wasting  my  precious  time,  and 
keeping  you  from  doing  you  master's  arrant  ?  I  hab  de  honor 
to  wish  you  good  marning,  Missa  Qui."  So  saying,  Primus 
turned  round  and  stumped  off  half  a  dozen  steps,  before  the 
bewildered  Felix  recovered  his  faculties. 

"Stop,  General,"  at  last  exclaimed  Felix,  as  soon  as  he 
regained  his  speech,  running  after  him  and  taking  hold  of  his 
arm,  "allow  me,  a  word  with  you." 

"  I  is  berry  busy  dis  marning,"  cried  Primus,  struggling  to 


76  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

get  free  ;  "  Missa  Pownal  want  my  sarvices  ;  de  doctor  is 
anxious  to  insult  wid  me  ;  and  de  'Piscopal  minister  hab  some- 
ting  'portant  to  communicate." 

"  I  inspect  he  want  you  to  write  the  Thanksgiving  sermon," 
said  Felix,  grinning.  "But,  General,  I  have  really  an  invite 
for  you.  I  forgot  to  write  the  note  before  I  leave  home,  and  so 
you  must,  'sense  the  want  of  style.  I  have  the  honor  to  ask 
you,  General,  to  take  your  dinner,  on  that  glorious  day,  with 
Miss  Rosa  and  I." 

"  Dat  alter  de  case  intirely,"  said  Primus,  losing  his  dread  of 
reading    billets,    and   forgetting    his    hurry   in    the    pleasure 
received  from  the  invitation  ;  <;  dat  alter  de  case  entirely.    You 
is  a  genlnian,  and  berry  polite,  Missa  Qui,  and  Miss  Rosa  is 
beyond  'spression.     Dere  is  few  ob  de  fair  sec  equal  Miss  Rosa. 
Let  me  see,"  he  continued,  with  a  thoughtful  air,  and  looking 
on  the    ground,   "whedder   I   not   disappoint   some    genlman. 
When  I  come  tound    de   corner  I  see  Missa  Tracy  boy  going 
toward  my  house.     Now,  probably  he  bring  invite  for  me.    But 
you  invite  is  de  fust,  Missa  Qui,  and  it  is  hard  to  desist  de  attrac 
tion  ob  Miss  Rosa  and  youself,  and  I  will  do  myself  de  honor  to 
wait  on  you.      Sorry,  howebber  to  disappoint  Missa  Tracy." 
Primus  had  now  embarked  on  the  full  tide  of  his  garrulity,  and 
casting  out  of  mind  his  regret  for  not  being  able  to  accept  the 
imaginary  invitation  to  Mr.  Tracy's,  went  on  : 

"  'Pears  to  me  a  great  Vantage,  Missa  Qui,  dat  some  folks  is 
'Piscopalians,  and  some  Presbyterians." 

Felix  looked  as  if  he  failed  to  apprehend  the  meaning  of  his 

friend. 

"  'Cause,"  said  Primus,  "  dat  make  two  grand  dinner,  and  you 

and  me  is  dere  to  eat  'em." 

Felix  had  now  fairly  caught  the  other's  meaning,  and  the  two 
exploded  in  bursts  of  laughter. 

"You  have  right  to  say  so,  General,  and  the  observation  do 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  77 

you  great  honor.     And  that  is  the  reason  I  inspect  that  you 
are  'Peskypalian." 

"I  surprise  to  hear  you  say  so  ob  your  ole  friend/'  said 
Primus,  drawing  himself  up  with  an  air  of  offended  dignity. 
"  No,  sar,  dat  is  not  de  reason.  De  reason  I  is  'Piscopalian  is, 
'cause  I  belong  to  de  regulars," 

"  I  never  hear  tell  the  'Peskypalians  is  more  regulars  than 
other  folks,"  said  Felix. 

"  You  is  a  young  man  (the  difference  in  their  ages  might  be 
half  a  dozen  years),  and  cannot  be  'spected  to  know  ebbery 
ting.  If  you  gib  me  your  Mention,  I  make  it  all  plain  as  de 
road  Gineral  Washington  show  de  British  out  ob  de  country. 
You  see  when  I  was  in  de  army  in  de  glorious  war  ob  de  Reso 
lution,  we  say  prayers  sometime  as  well  as  you  folks  who  stay  at 
home,  and  don't  do  none  ob  de  fightin.  And  so  when  de  drum 
beat,  ebbery  man  must  be  at  his  post.  Den  come  de  chaplain 
all  in  his  regimental,  and  put  de  book  on  cle  big  drum,  and 
kneel  down,  and  Gineral  Washington  he  kneel  down,  too,  and 
de  chaplain  say  some  prayer  dat  sound  like  de  roll  ob  de  drum 
itself.  0,  it  was  so  beautiful,  and  1  always  feel  better  arter- 
wards.  Dere  nebber  was  much  uniform  in  de  army,  but  what 
dere  was,  de  regulars  is  entitle  to  it.  I  nebber  tink  de  soger 
look  just  de  ting  widout  de  regimental.  Now,  look  at  de 
Tiscopal  minister  in  de  pulpit,  in  de  lily-white  and  de  black 
gown.  De  fust  is  for  white  folks,  and  de  oder  out  of  respec' 
for  us  colored  pussons.  Dey  is  his  regimental.  He  look  like  a 
regular  soger  ob  de  Lord.  But  see  de  Presbyterian.  He  hab 
no  uniform  at  all.  He  ony  rnilishy  officer." 

Felix,  who,  as  in  duty  bound,  was  as  zealous  a  Presbyterian 
(as  the  Congregationalists  in  New  England  were  generally 
called)  as  Primus  was  an  Episcopalian,  was  scandalized  at  such 
language.  He  half  regretted  having  given  the  invitation  to  the 
dinner,  and  it  is  highly  probable  that,  if  he  had  heard  General 


78  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

Ransome's  speech  before,  that  gentleman  would  have  so  far 
talked  himself  out  of  his  good  graces  (a  misfortune  that  some 
times  happens  to  extraordinary  eloquence),  as  to  have  lost  the 
object  of  his  anxiety,  and,  like  the  nightingale  in  Cowper's  fable, 
have  "  sought  his  dinner  somewhere  else."  But  Primus  saw  the 
gathering  storm  and  hastened  to  avert  its  discharge. 

"I  hab  great  respec'/'  he  said,  "for  the  milishy.  Dey  is 
excellent  for  skirmishing,  and  where  ebbery  man  hab  to  fight 
on  his  own  hook,  but  when  it  come  to  de  hard  fight-in'  de  regu 
lars  is  de  men  to  be  depend  on.  And  den/'  added  he,  "  dere  is 
odder  reasons  :  I  like  de  exercise  in  de  church  better.  I  like 
dere  taste,  too,  when  dey  ornaments  de  church  wid  greens  at, 
Christmas.  It  make  de  winter  look  kind  o'  young  and  happy." 
Felix  was  easily  propitiated.  He  might  be  offended  with  his 
comrade,  but  his  anger  could  not  last.  It  had  passed  away 
before  Primus  had  concluded  his  conciliatory  remarks.  In  fact, 
the  two  cronies  were  too  necessary  to  each  other's  happiness  to 
allow  of  a  long  quarrel,  and  for  all  Felix's  reverence  for  his 
master's •"  meeting,"  he  was  as  placable  as  zealous,  nor  would 
the  famous  festival  have  been  a  genuine  Thanksgiving  without 
his  old  friend  to  help  him  to  discuss  its  luxuries.  They  shook 
hands  at  parting,  and  Mr.  Qui  promised  to  present  the  comple- 
mens  of  the  General  to  Miss  Rosa. 

As  Felix  pursued  his  way  alone,  having  no  one  else  to  talk  to, 
he  gave  himself  the  benefit  of  his  conversation. 

"That  General,"  he  said,  aloud,  "is  a  wonderful  man.  I 
never  respected  him  before  of  knowing  how  to  read  writin'.  I 
don't  believe,  after  all,  he  does  know  how.  But  when  he  took 
the  billets  in  his  hand,  he  sort  o'  give  'em  a  squint  as  if  he  knew 
all  about  it.  Who  learned  him  ?  Perhaps  he  does  and  perhaps 
he  doesn't.  I  wonder,  too,  how  he  missed  all  the  bullets  he 
preaches  about  sometimes,  with  losing  only  one  leg.  I  heard 
him  say,  fifty  times,  they  come  like  an  April  shower.  Now,  if 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  79 

he  had  a  hundred  legs,  it  seems  to  me  they  ought  all  to  be 
smashed.  I  'spect,  as  I  heard  the  doctor  say  once,  he  draws  on 
the  fact  for  his  'magination.  But  what  can  you  'spect,  Felix, 
from  a  Teskypalian  ?  They  think  so  much  of  gitting  up  and 
setting  down,  as  if  there  was  religion  in  moving  the  legs.  But 
let  me  see  about  the  billets.  Miss  Faith  told  me  to  put  the 
Bernards'  in  this  pocket,  and  the  minister's  in  this,  and  the 
doctor's  in  this  other  one.  Ah,  all  right  !  The  doctor  is  a 
very  curus  person.  I  wonder  what  makes  him  talk  so  much 
about  a  man  he  calls  Shakspeare.  I  heard  him  say  he  lived  a 
great  many  years  ago,  I  guess  with  Joshua  and  David,  when 
there  was  so  much  fighting  going  on,  and  when  they  hadn't  no 
guns.  Perhaps  he  was  Q-oliah's  brother,  who  come  out  with 
shield  and  spear.  Well,  there  is  no  sogers  with  spears  now-a- 
days.  It's  my  opinion,  give  old  Prime  a  loaded  musket  with  a, 
baggonet,  and  he'd  do  more  work  than  Goliah  and  Shakspeare 
together,  with  their  spears.  But,  here,  I  am  near  the  Judge's. 
Now,  sir,  mind  your  eye,  and  see  that  you  maintain  the  'specta- 
bility  of  the  family."  Saying  this,  Felix  drew  himself  up, 
adjusted  his  neckerchief,  and  strutted  somewhat  pompously  into 
the  yard  of  the  Judge,  whence  he  soon  found  his  way  into  the 
kitchen.  The  invitations  to  the  Bernards  were  in  due  form 
delivered,  as  were  the  others,  and  accepted. 


80  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Lorenzo.— Go  in,  Sirrah ;  bid  them  prepare  for  dinner. 
Launcelot. — That  is  done,  sir  ;  they  have  all  stomachs. 
Lorenzo. — Goodly  lord,  what  a  wit-snapper  are  you  !  then  bid  them  prepare  dinner. 

Laimcelot. — That  is  done  too,  sir. 

MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

THE  high  square  pews  of  the  little  Congregational  church,  or 
(as  in  those  days  the  descendants  of  the  Puritans,  in  order  to 
manifest  their  abhorrence  for  popery,  and  all  that  in  their  judg 
ment  sounded  papistical,  loved  to  call  their  places  for  public 
worship)  the  "  meeting-house/7  were  tolerably  well  filled  by  an 
attentive  congregation  on  Thanksgiving  morning.  We  say 
only  tolerably,  some  seats  being  vacant,  which  seldom  of  a 
Sunday  missed  of  occupants.  The  rights  of  hospitality  were 
allowed  on  this  occasion  to  trench  upon  the  duties  of  public 
worship,  and  many  a  good  wife  with  the  servants,  whom  no 
common  storm  or  slight  indisposition  would  have  kept  away, 
remained  at  home  to  spread  the  board  for  expected  guests.  If 
there  were  some  whose  stern  principles  condemned  the  practice 
as  a  carnality,  they  were  a  small  minority.  Those  whose  fleshly 
appetites  were  to  be  gratified  by  it  took  a  different  view  of  the 
subject  very  generally  ;  and  as  this  was  the  condition  of  pretty 
much  the  whole  community,  whose  members  figured  now  as  hosts 
and  now  as  guests,  the  verdict  was  nearly  unanimous  in  its 
favor.  In  truth,  the  due  observance  of  the  day  seemed  to  con 
sist  of  two  parts,  worship  and  feasting;  each  was  necessary  to 
the  other  to  form  a  complement,  and  without  both  it  would  have 
been  jejune  and  unsatisfactory.  Besides,  this  was  the  annual 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  81 

period  for  the  reunion  of  friends  and  relatives,  parted  for  the 
rest  of  the  year,  and  in  some  instances  considerable  journeys  were 
undertaken  in  order  once  more  to  unite  the  severed  circle  and 
gather  again  around  the  beloved  board.  Fathers  and  mothers, 
with  smiles  of  welcome,  kissed  their  returned  children  ;  brothers 
and  sisters  joined  cordial  hands  and  rushed  into  each  other's 
embraces,  and  the  placid  grandparents  danced  the  little  ones  on 
their  knees,  and  traced  resemblances  to  others.  It  would  have 
been  a  cold  and  inhospitable  greeting,  to  be  invited,  after  listen 
ing  to  a  two  hours'  sermon,  to  sit  around  a  dinner  not  beyond 
the  common.  Not  to  such  a  feast  did  stout-hearted  and  hard- 
headed  Jonathan  invite  his  friends.  He  rightly  unders  ood  that 
there  was  a  carnal  and  a  spiritual  man,  nor  was  he  disposed  to 
neglect  the  claims  of  either.  The  earth  was  given  to  the  saints 
"with  the  fullness  thereof,"  and  he  meant  to  have  his  portion. 
Therefore  it  was  that  while  one  part  of  the  family  went  to 

"meeting"  to  pray,  the  other  remained  at  home  to cook. 

Thus,  by  a  judicious  division  of  duties  the  honored  day  was  cele 
brated  with  befitting  rites  and  ceremonies. 

After  waiting  for  a  reasonable  time,  until  all  who  were 
expected  to  attend  were  supposed  to  be  in  the  house,  the 
minister  rose  from  his  seat,  in  the  high,  wine-glass  shaped  pulpit, 
over  which  hung,  like  the  sword  of  Damocles,  by  a  cord,*  an 
immense  sounding-board,  considered  indispensable,  duly  to  scat 
ter  round  that  each  might  have  his  appropriate  portion,  the 
crumbs  of  salvation  he  dispensed,  and  "gave  out"  an  appropri 
ate  hymn,  in  which  the  Supreme  Being  was  acknowledged  as 
the  Ruler  of  the  Seasons.  This  was  sung,  it  must  be  confessed, 
by  a  sadly  shrunken  choir,  stoutly  supported,  however,  by  the 
congregation  in  the  body  of  the  meeting-house,  without  the 
sound  of  tabret,  or  harp,  or  other  musical  instruments  ;  for  in 
those  days  not  even  the  flute  or  grave  bass-viol,  those  pioneers 
of  the  organ,  were  permitted  in  the  Sanctuary.  To  the  hymn 

4* 


82  THE     LOST      HU  N"  T  E  R  . 

succeeded  a  long  and  fervent  prayer,  in  which  Mr.  Robinson,  the 
minister  (the  term  Reverend  had  then  a  slight  papistical  twang), 
after  bewailing  with  ingenious  particularity  the  sins  and  back- 
slidings  of  himself  and  people,  and  the  ingratitude  of  the  whole 
land,  and  recounting  the  innumerable  blessings  that  had  crowned 
their  basket  and  their  store,  entreated  that  notwithstanding 
their  manifold  sins,  iniquities  and  transgressions,  the  divine 
favor  might  not  be  withdrawn  from  a  land  where  the  Lord  had 
planted  his  own  vine,  and  where  the  precious  seeds  of  heavenly 
grace  deposited  in  the  soil  and  nurtured  and  cultured  by  men 
"  of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy,"  had  sprung  up  and  borne 
the  inestimable  fruit  of  civil  and  religious  freedom.  Upon  the 
conclusion  of  the  prayer  followed  another  hymn,  and  after  these 
"exercises,"  the  sermon. 

The  text  was  the  ninth  verse  of  the  twenty-sixth  chapter  of 
Deuteronomy,  "  And  He  hath  brought  us  into  this  place  and 
hath  given  us  this  land,  even  a  land  that  floweth  with  milk  and 
honey."  The  Thansgiving  sermon  was  formerly  one  on  which 
more  than  common  labor  was  expended,  and  was  intended  to  be 
a  celebrity  of  the  year.  On  this  occasion  the  preacher  laid  out 
a  wide  field  for  his  eloquence.  He  commenced  by  comparing  the 
condition  of  the  first  colonists  to  that  of  the  children  of  Israel 
when  they  fled  from  the  house  of  bondage.  He  painted  the 
Pilgrim  fathers  landing  on  Plymouth  Rock,  snow,  and  ice,  and 
desolation  around,  but  the  fire  of  faith  in  their  hearts.  He  con 
trasted  the  feebleness  of  the  beginning  with  the  grandeur  of  the 
result,  whence  he  deduced  the  inference  that  the  Lord  had  led 
his  people  with  a  mighty  hand  and  an  outstretched  arm  ;  he 
alluded  to  the  changed  appearance  of  the  country,  converted 
from  a  heathen  wilderness  into  a  Christian  garden,  whence  the 
perfume  of  Christian  devotion  perpetually  arose  ;  he  portrayed 
the  horrors  of  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  and  exhorted  his  hearers 
to  cherish  the  memory  of  the  men  who  had  consecrated  their 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  83 

lives  and  fortunes  to  Liberty,  and  sealed  that  consecration  with 
their  blood.  Warming  with  his  subject,  his  eyes  shone  with  a 
brighter  lustre  and  seemed  gazing  into  a  far  future,  as  in  pro 
phetic  tones  he  proclaimed  the  advent  of  the  latter  days,  when 
the  beacon  fires  of  Freedom  kindled  on  the  mountain  tops  of  the 
new  Canaan  should  send  their  streaming  rays  across  the  seas, 
and  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  should  become  the  heritage  of 
God  and  of  His  Christ.  "  Seeing  these  things  are  so,  brethren," 
he  concluded,  "  seeing  that  God  hath  chosen  you  unto  himself 
for  a  peculiar  people,  the  weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound 
the  strong,  the  rejected,  the  cast  away  and  despised,  to  be  held 
up  as  an  example  to  the  wondering  and  admiring  nations,  what 
manner  of  men  ought  ye  to  be  in  all  holy  conversation  and  god 
liness  ?" 

Such  is  an  imperfect  sketch  of  the  remarks  of  Mr.  Robinson. 
With  such  language  sought  the  ministers  in  times  past  to  keep 
alive  the  flame  of  patriotism,  and  to  inspire  with  humility,  yet 
animate  with  a  just  pride.  Nor  are  such  discourses  thrown 
away.  They  do  much  towards  the  formation  of  a  national 
character. 

Long  as  was  the  sermon — and  of  not  a  moment  of  its  ortho 
dox  length  was  it  defrauded — it  was  listened  to  with  the  deepest 
attention,  by  the  older  members,  especially,  of  the  congregation. 
The  grave  decorum  of  a  place  of  public  worship  forbade  any 
open  exhibition  of  approval,  but  mo-re  than  one  knit  brow  and 
lighted  eye,  betrayed  the  emotions  excited  by  the  allusions. 
Let  it  be  remembered,  it  was  nearer  the  times  that  tried  men's 
souls  ;  the  later  events  were  fresh  in  their  memory  ;  some  of  the 
hearers,  perhaps,  had  borne  a  personal  part  in  them,  and  all 
were  animated  by  the  generous  fire  of  '76 — sparks  of  which,  we 
trust,  still  glimmer  in  the  bosoms  of  their  descendants.  What 
to  us,  in  these  colder  and  as  some  say  more  worldly  days,  might 
have  seemed  extravagant,  if  not  vain-glorious,  was  to  them 


84  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

sober  truth  ;  and  if  there  were  any  who,  perverting  into  poison 
what  was  meant  for  wholesome  nutriment,  thanked  God  that 
they  were  not  as  other  men,  there  were  others  who,  without 
losing  their  humility,  felt  an  impulse  given  to  the  nobler 
feelings. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  services,  there  was  the  usual  grasp 
ing  of  hands,  and  congratulations  of  the  season,  and  inquiries 
after  healths,  and  encomiums  on  the  sermon,  when  the  assembly 
dispersed  to  their  homes,  to  attend,  in  another  form,  to  the 
duties  of  the  day.  Mr.  Armstrong  and  Faith  waited  for  the 
minister,  and  the  three  walked  home  together.  They  were  over 
taken  and  joined  by  Doctor  Elmer,  who  expressed  regret  at 
having  been  detained  from  the  services  by  professional  duties. 

"  But,"  added  he,  looking  at  Mr.  Robinson,  and  bowing 
courteously,  "  if  I  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  miss  of  one 
feast,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  deprived  of  another.  I  may  say  of 
myself,  as  Shakspeare  says  of  somebody,  '  Marry,  sir,  sometimes 
he  is  a  kind  of  Puritan.'  " 

"  I  hope  your  Puritan  principles  do  not  consist  merely  in  eat 
ing  Thanksgiving  dinners,"  said  Mr.  Robinson,  with  a  smile. 

"And  remember,  doctor,"  observed  Faith,  "what  your  own 
Shakspeare  says  again — 

" '  dainty  bits 
Make  rich  the  ribs,  but  bankerout  quite  the  wits.' " 

"  My  dear,"  interposed  Mr.  Armstrong,  "  is  not  this  conversa 
tion  of  too  light  a  character  ?" 

But  he  could  not  immediately  check  the  doctor. 

"  Ha,  Miss  Faith,"  he  cried,  "  'wilt  thou  show  the  whole  wealth 
of  thy  wit,  in  an  instant  ?  I  pray  thee,  understand  a  plain  man 
in  his  plain  meaning.'  But 

"  '  The  tongues  of  mocking  wenches  are  as  keen 

As  is  the  razor's  edge  invisible, 
Cutting  a  smaller  hair  than  may  be  Been.' 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  85 

Come,"  he  added,  observing  that  Mr.  Armstrong  looked  grave, 
"take  my  arm,  and  we  will  discuss  some  serious  subject, 
together."  So  saying,  he  offered  his  arm  to  Faith,  which  she 
took,  and  they  followed,  at  a  few  steps  distance,  after  Mr.  Arm 
strong  and  the  minister. 

"  I  arn  afraid,"  said  the  doctor,  slackening  his  pace,  so  as  to 
allow  the  others  to  get  out  of  hearing,  "you  would  prefer  a 
certain  young  gentleman's  arm  to  that  of  an  old  bachelor.  It  is 
rather  hard  that  the  rogues,  whose  principal  recommendation,  I 
flatter  myself,  is  that  they  are  twenty  years  younger,  should 
steal  away  all  my  sweethearts." 

Faith  laughed;  as  she  replied : 

"  Why,  dear  doctor,  what  would  you  have  us  do  ?  You 
never  will  propose  ;  so  you  must  not  complain  if  you  drive  us 
poor  girls  to  desperation." 

<l  You  wicked  little  baggage,  is  this  the  way  you  laugh  at  the 
most  constant  of  your  admirers  ?  How  many  long  years  have 
I  spent  in  your  service,  from  the  time  I  began  with  rocking  your 
cradle,  occasionally  giving  you,  to  sweeten  your  humors,  a  tea 
spoon  of  castor  oil,  or  a  half-dozen  drops  of  elixir  salutis,  up  to 
the  present  time,  and  thus  you  reward  my  devotion  !  I  begin  to 
feel  desperate,  and  have  half  a  mind  to  transfer  my  affections  to 
Anne  Bernard." 

"  Do  not  treat  me  so  cruelly.  I  assure  you,  my  love  increases 
every  day.  Besides,  you  might  find  your  perfidy  punished  by 
meeting  a  too  formidable  rival." 

"  Ah,  ha  !  I  understand.  Yet,  I  feel  my  chivalry  a  little 
roused  at  the  idea  of  opposition.  But,  on  the  whole,  Faith,  I 
will  accept  your  pledge  of  affection,  and  stick  to  my  colors  like  a 
man  and  a  doctor.  And,  to  exhibit  my  confidence,  you  may, 
meanwhile,  flirt  in  moderation  with  William  Bernard.  You  will 
get  tired  of  it  when  the  novelty  wears  off ;  so  I  shall  escape, 


86  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

and  it  is  better  that  you  should  tease  him  now  than  me  here 
after.     But,  dear  me,  here  we  are  at  your  door." 

Mr.  Armstrong  and  the  minister  had  waited  for  them  on  the 
step,  and  the  four  entered  together.  Shortly  after  Pownal 
arrived,  and  somewhat  later  the  family  of  the  Bernards. 

We  should  deceive  our  readers  if  we  left  them  to  infer  from 
the  jesting  talk  of  the  doctor  that  any  mutual  attachment 
existed  between  Miss  Armstrong  and  William  Bernard.  It  was 
because  his  suspicions  were  so  vaguely  expressed,  and  herself  so 
unconscious  of  any  feelings  of  the  kind,  that  Faith  had  not 
thought  it  worth  while  to  notice  them.  She  and  young  Bernard 
had  known  each  other  from  infancy  ;  they  had  attended  the 
same  school  ;  the  intimacy  betwixt  Faith  and  Anne,  and  the 
friendly  relations  of  the  two  families  equals  in  wealth  and  sta 
tion,  had  brought  them  frequently  together,  but  nothing  could 
be  further  from  the  fact  than  that  any  engagement  existed 
between  them.  They  treated  one  another,  indeed,  like  brother 
and  sister  ;  but  if  any  warmer  emotion  was  felt,  it  was  not  by 
Faith.  Her  engrossing  affection  for  her  father  seemed  to 
exclude  all  rivalship.  The  meeting  exactly  expressed  the  foot 
ing  on  which  the  families  stood.  Mr.  Armstrong  shook  hands 
cordially  with  all,  and  in  a  few  words  uttered  his  pleasure  at 
welcoming  them  ;  Mrs.  Bernard  kissed  the  cheek  of  Faith, 
with  almost  the  feeling  of  a  mother  ;  the  greeting  of  the  girls 
was  like  that  of  sisters,  and  Faith  extended  her  hand  to  Wil 
liam  Bernard,  with  a  smile,  but  without  a  blush. 

Though  utterly  unlike,  it  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  of 
two  more  beautiful  creatures  than  Faith  Armstrong  and  Anne 
Bernard.  The  dark  hair  of  Faith,  the  large  black  eyes,  the 
nose  slightly  aquiline,  an  expression  of  countenance  ordinarily 
composed,  though  not  sad,  but  which  could  be  lighted  up  into 
enthusiasm,  and  a  graceful  dignity  that  marked  every  action, 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  81 

while  it  seemed  only  a  necessary  part  of  herself,  forcibly 
reminded  one  sometimes  of  the  heroines  of  the  ancient  Scrip 
tures.  So  in  her  youthful  years,  before  her  eyes  were  fully 
opened  to  the  vision,  and  before  to  the  sound  of  the  clanging 
timbrel  her  voice  responded  to  the  triumph  song  of  the  children 
of  Israel,  might  have  looked  the  prophetess,  Miriam. 

No  contrast  could  be  stronger  than  that  presented  by  sweet 
Anne  Bernard.  Light  colored  hair  fell  in  graceful  curls  around 
an  oval  and  perfectly  regular  face,  of  the  most  delicate  com 
plexion.  So  thin,  so  almost  transparent  was  the  skin,  that  the 
veins  seemed  hardly  hidden,  and  a  very  slight  emotion  was  suf 
ficient  to  suffuse  it  with  a  tint  that  needed  to  fear  no  rivalry 
with  the  rose.  No  heaven  could  be  bluer  than  the  soft  eyes 
that  seemed  "  to  love  whatever  they  looked  upon,"  and  whether 
dimmed  with  the  tear  of  pity,  or  flashing  with  mirth,  revealed  a 
pure,  but  not  a  timid  spirit.  But  among  features  which  all 
were  beautiful,  if  one  could  be  called  more  beautiful  than 
another,  it  was  the  mouth,  and  white  as  snow  were  the  regular 
and  perfectly  formed  teeth  which  the  crimson  lips  concealed. 
Her  figure  was  rather  below  than  above  the  ordinary  height, 
and  its  roundness  indicated  the  most  perfect  health.  Let  not 
this  description  be  deemed  a  picture  of  romance.  Those 
acquainted  with  the  beautiful  daughters  of  New  England  will 
acknowledge  its  truth,  or,  at  least,  confess,  it  errs  not  on  the 
side  of  exaggeration. 

The  intermediate  time  between  the  arrival  of  the  company 
and  the  serving  up  of  dinner,  was  spent  by  them  in  such  conver 
sation  as  usually  takes  place  on  occasions  of  the  kind.  Some 
body  has  said,  that  two  Americans  cannot  meet  without  talking 
politics,  but  we  can  vouch  for  the  fact,  that  although  Mr. 
Armstrong,  the  doctor,  and  divine  were  federalists,  and  the 
Judge  a  democrat,  having  spent  several  of  his  early  years  in 
France,  where  he  was  supposed  to  have  imbibed  his  sentiments, 


88  THB      LOST      HUNTER. 

not  a  word  on  the  subject  was  uttered.  A  reference  or  two 
was  made  to  the  minister's  discourse  ;  the  flourishing  condition 
of  the  country  and  its  prospects  adverted  to  ;  and  some  items 
of  domestic  news  and  village  anecdotes  narrated.  Such  was 
the  conversation  of  the  elders  :  as  for  what  passed  between  the 
young  people,  we  know  there  was  some  laughing,  but  have 
forgot  what  they  talked  about.  We  regret  this  irreparable  loss, 
and  promise  to  be  more  attentive  for  the  future. 

At  length,  the  ebony  disc  of  Felix's  face,  rising  pleasantly 
above  a  snow-bank  of  neck-cloth,  appeared  at  the  door,  and 
announced  dinner,  when  Mr.  Armstrong  offering  his  arm  to  Mrs. 
Bernard,  preceded  his  friends  into  the  dining-room.  Faith 
accepted  the  Judge's  escort,  and  Pownal  tried  to  wait  on  Anne, 
but  somehow  or  other  (and  we  suspect  her  of  complicity  in  the 
affair),  the  divine  secured  the  prize. 

Before  the  company  sat  down,  which  was  in  an  order  having 
reference  to  their  supposed  tastes  and  attractions,  at  a  request 
from  the  host,  an  appropriate  grace  was  said  by  the  minister, 
which  happily  avoided  the  extremes  of  too  much  brevity  on  the 
one  hand,  and  of  too  great  prolixity  on  the  other  ;  or,  in  other 
words,  it  was  neither  irreverently  short,  nor  impertinently  long. 

The  dinner  was  of  that  kind  which  still  graces  the  hospitable 
boards  of  old  Connecticut.  At  one  end  of  the  table  a  roasted 
turkey,  which  had  been  stuffed  a  couple  of  days  before,  in  order 
that  the  spices,  composing  a  part  of  the  ingredients,  might 
penetrate  and  flavor  the  flesh  of  the  noble  bird,  turned  up  his 
round  full  breast  to  the  carving-knife  ;  at  the  other  end,  another 
turkey,  somewhat  smaller,  boiled  and  served  with  oyster  sauce, 
kept  company  with  her  mate,  while  near  the  centre,  which  was 
occupied  by  bleached  celery  in  a  crystal  vase,  a  mighty  ham 
balanced  a  chicken  pie  of  equal  size.  Besides  these  principal 
dishes  there  were  roasted  and  boiled  fowls,  and  ducks,  and 
tongues,  flanked  by  cranberry  and  apple  sauces,  and  mashed 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  89 

turnips  and  potatoes.  On  the  sideboard  (for  be  it  remembered, 
it  was  "  when  this  old  cap  was  new,"  and  a  practice  which  now 
is  considered,  at  least,  questionable,  was  then  held  in  all  honor, 
and  its  neglect  was  never  dreamed  of,  and  would  have  drawn 
down  an  imputation  of  nigardliness  and  want  of  breeding) 
stood  bottles  of  wine,  and  flagons  containing  still  stronger 
liquors,  together  with  a  large  pitcher  of  delicious  cider.  Upon 
the  removal  of  the  first  course  followed  various  kinds  of  pud 
dings,  and  pies,  and  custards,  and  tarts,  and  sillabubs,  and  they, 
in  their  turn,  were  succeeded  by  apples  and  different  sorts  of 
nuts,  with  raisins  and  figs,  with  which  the  repast  was  concluded. 
Such  was  an  old  Thanksgiving  dinner.  The  present  preliminary 
soup  was  unusual  or  unknown.  It  was  an  array  capable  of 
supplying  the  wants  of  a  much  larger  company,  and  but  a 
small  part  could  be  consumed,  but  it  was  the  fashion,  and  it 
still  continues.  They  were  celebrating  the  bounty  of  Provi 
dence,  and  it  was  meet  that  the  liberality  of  man  should  be  in 
harmony  with  it.  Felix,  grave  and  decorous,  as  became  the 
importance  of  the  occasion,  and  his  assistant,  multiplied  them 
selves  into  a  thousand  waiters,  sedulous  to  anticipate  the  wants 
of  the  host  and  his  guests. 

The  conversation,  which  at  first  ran  in  several  distinct  rills 
being  confined  to  each  one's  immediate  neighborhood  mostly, 
and  interrupted  by  the  serious  business  of  dinner,  seemed  gradu 
ally,  after  a  time,  to  unite  its  various  streams  into  one  common 
current.  The  attention  of  the  doctor  was  first  attracted  from 
an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  quote  to  Mrs.  Bernard  Shakspeare's 
famous  recipe  for  cooking  a  beef-steak  by  an  observation  of 
Mr.  Robinson  to  Mr.  Armstrong,  at  whose  left  hand  he  sat,  the 
seat  at  the  right  being  occupied  by  Mrs.  Bernard,  next  to  whom 
sat  the  doctor. 

"  The  results,"  said  the  minister,  "  furnish,  I  fear,  little  encou 
ragement  for  the  future.  Unless  divine  grace  shall  manifest 


90  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

itself  in  a  more  signal  manner  than  has  heretofore  been  vouch 
safed,  they  seemed  destined  to  die  in  their  sins." 

"  Is  there,  then,  no  escape  from  a  doom  so  horrible  ?"  inquired 
the  low  voice  of  Mr.  Armstrong.  "  After  being  hunted  from 
their  ancient  possessions,  and  denied  even  the  graves  of  their 
fathers,  must  they  perish  everlastingly  ?" 

"  Can  the  clay  say  to  the  potter,  '  What  doest  thou  ?'  "  said 
Mr.  Robinson.  "  He  maketh  one  vessel  to  honor  and  another 
to  dishonor.  Repeated  attempts  have  been  made  to  civilize  and 
Christianize  them,  but  in  vain.  Whom  He  will  He  hardeneth." 

Mr.  Armstrong  sighed,  and  another  sigh,  so  low  it  was 
unheard,  stole  from  the  bosom  of  his  daughter. 

"  You  are  speaking  of  the  Indians  ?"  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  Yes/7  said  Mr.  Robinson,  "  and  of  the  failure  of  all  attempts 
by  Christians  to  ameliorate  their  condition." 

"And  are  you  surprised  it  should  be  so?"  inquired  the 
doctor. 

"  The  ways  of  Providence  are  inscrutable,"  replied  Mr.  Rob 
inson.  "  I  pretend  not  to  explain  the  reasons  why  they  are  deaf 
to  the  pleadings  of  the  Gospel." 

"  What,"  cried  the  doctor,  slightly  altering  his  favorite  author, 
" '  hath  not  an  Indian  eyes  ?  Hath  not  an  Indian  hands,  organs, 
dimensions,  senses,  affections,  passions  ?  fed  with  the  same  food, 
hurt  with  the  same  weapons,  subject  to  the  same  diseases,  healed 
by  the  same  means,  warmed  and  cooled  by  the  same  winter  and 
summer  as  a  Christian  is  ?  If  an  Indian  wrong  a  Christian, 
what  is  his  humility  ?  revenge  ;  if  a  Christian  wrong  an  Indian, 
what  should  his  sufferance  be,  by  Christian  example?  why, 
revenge.'  There,  you  have  the  whole  in  a  nut-shell." 

"  In  addition  to  the  difficulty  growing  out  of  their  treatment 
by  the  whites,  suggested  by  the  doctor,"  said  the  Judge,  "  there 
is  another,  which  I  consider  insuperable,  arising  out  of  a  differ 
ence  of  race." 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  91 

"I  do  not  quite  understand  you,"  observed  Mr.  Robin 
son. 

"It  is  said  by  naturalists,"  answered  the  Judge,  "  that  man 
comprehends,  within  himself,  the  peculiarities  of  all  inferior 
animals.  Now,  there  are  some  capable  of  domestication,  while 
others  are  irreclaimable.  You  may  tame  the  horse,  but  not  the 
tiger.  The  wild  element  controls  the  one,  and  is  controllable  in 
the  other.  In  my  opinion,  this  wild  element  so  predominates  in 
the  Indian  as  to  make  him  incapable  of  civilization.  He  is  the 
tiger." 

"  But  some  have  been  civilized,"  remarked  Mr.  Armstrong. 
"  A  quasi  civilization,  I  grant,"  said  the  Judge;  "  and  were  I 
to  concede  more,  the  exceptions  are  so  few  as  only  to  confirm 
the  rule." 

"  Your  theory  opens  a  wide  field  for  speculation,"  said  Mr. 
Robinson,  "and  I  could  bring  many  objections  to  it.  In  the 

first  place  " 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  cried  the  Judge,  hastily,  and  desirous 
to  avoid  the  arising  collision,  "  and  I  shall  be  happy  to  examine 
the  subject,  at  some  future  time,  with  you.  I  throw  out  these 
ideas  only  as  hints.  But  there  is  another  rule  operative,  if, 
indeed,  it  is  not  the  same  differently  expressed— the  inferior 
must  always  give  place  to  the  superior  race  " 

"That  is  not  clear,  either/7  said  the  divine.  "What  race 
ever  existed  superior  to  the  Jews  ?  Yet,  observe  their  con 
dition." 

"  I  am  not  understood.  Why,  the  Jews  prove  my  theory.  If 
they  had  not  been  a  superior  race,  they  would  long  ago  have 
been  extinct.  But  their  number  now  is  probably  as  great  as  it 
ever  was.  The  Indians,  however,  are  vanishing." 

"And,  really,  Mr.  Bernard,"  said  his  wife,  "on  your  own 
principles,  they  will  be  no  loss,  if  they  do  vanish.  If  a  superior 
race  succeeds,  all  the  better." 


rem  acii- 


92  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"Right,  right,  my  dear,"  cried  her  husband, 
pshaw  !     I  was  going  to  quote  Latin.     They  have  had  their 
day,  and  fulfilled  their  design." 

"  It  seems  to  me  a  deplorable  necessity,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong. 

"  There  are  many  laws  and  purposes  at  work  in  the  rise  and 
fall  of  nations,"  said  the  minister,  "beyond  our  view  A  pecu 
liar  mystery  hangs  over  the  devoted  tribes  ;  and,  assign  what 
reasons  we  please  for  their  decay,  there  is  only  one  satisfactory 
reason  into  which  all  the  others  are  resolvable,  viz  :  the  deter 
mination  of  Providence.  That  determination  is  obvious.  As 
the  inhabitants  of  Canaan,  were  swept  away  for  their  iniquities, 
so  is  the  red  race  destined  to  be  extinguished ;  and  it  ma,y  be 
for  a  like  reason — they  will  not  abandon  their  abomina 
tions.'7 

"They  are  as  moral  as  the  whites,  generally,  I  believe,"  said 
William  Bernard. 

"Alas,  that  word  morality  !"  exclaimed  the  divine.  "  It  is  an 
ignis  fatuus  to  mislead — a  broken  reed  to  lean  on." 

"  But,"  inquired  Faith,  anxiously,  "  do  you  think,  sir,  that 
nothing  can  be  done  for  those  who  are  left  ?" 

"  I  see  but  little  prospect  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Robinson. 

"  There  are  some  good  people  among  them,"  said  the  doctor, 
warmly.  "I  wish  I  was  as  sure  of  my  own  salvation  as  1  am 
of  poor  Esther's." 

This  discussion  scarcely  disturbed  the  conversation  between 
Anne  Bernard  and  Pownal,  who,  much  to  his  delight,  found 
himself  seated  by  her  side.  Nor  did  the  contiguity  seem  dis 
pleasing  to  the  lovely  girl.  What  is  the  charm  that  gives  bold 
ness  to  the  timid,  and  eloquence  to  the  hesitating ;  which  kindles 
the  eye  with  a  brighter  lustre,  and  imparts  a  softer  tone  to  the 
voice  ;  which  colors  the  cheek  with  frequent  blushes,  and  fills 
the  heart  with  unwonted  flutterings  ?  Sweet  maiden,  can  you 
tell?  Yet,  what  could  they  have  so  much  to  say  to  onr 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  93 

another  ?  They  who  are  young,  and  they  who  have  not  for 
gotten  the  feelings  of  youth  will  readily  find  an  answer. 

"  My  heart  warms  to  the  Indians,"  said  Pownal,  in  a  low 
toue,  "  whenever  I  hear  them  spoken  of.  It  appears  to  me, 
sometimes,'7  continued  he,  smiling,  "  as  if  I  were  a  sort  of  rela 
tion.  Were  I  a  believer  in  the  transmigration  of  souls,  I  should 
think  I  had  been,  in  some  previous  existence,  an  Indian 
myself." 

"  Probably  a  Sachem,  with  your  hair  nicely  shaved,  except  a 
little  which  was  caught  up  into  a  knot  like  a  cock's  comb,  on 
top  to  hold  an  eagle's  feather,"  said  the  laughing  Anne.  "  How 
elegantly  you  must  have  looked  after  having  made  your  toilette, 
preparatory  to  wooing  some  Indian  Princess,  with  your  face  beau 
tifully  painted  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  only  handsomer. 
How  I  should  have  liked  to  see  you.  Hard-hearted  must  have 
been  the  fair  who  could  resist  such  charms." 

"  You  have  reason  to  laugh  at  me  ;  it  is  very  ridiculous, 
but " 

"  And  then  to  think  of  the  sad  change  that  has  befallen  you  ! 
To  subside  from  an  eagle-feathered  Sachem,  eating  succatash  with 
an  Indian  Princess,  into  a  tame  civilized  gentleman,  in  a  swallow- 
tailed  coat,  handing  apples  to  a  poor  little  Yankee  girl  I  I  do 
not  wonder  you  were  melancholy  and  tried  to  shoot  yourself." 

"  It  was  the  most  fortunate  shot  I  ever  made,  since  " 

"I  am  not  sure  of  that.  Perhaps  if  you  had  succeeded  you 
might  have  been  transmigrated  back  into  the  wigwam,  and 
resumed  your  addresses  to  the  Princess." 

"  Your  fancy  outstrips  mine.  I  find  it  hard,  by  the  side  of  a 
real  Princess,  to  think  of  an  imaginary  one." 

"  Faithless,  like  all  your  fickle  sex.     Ah  me,  poor  princess  !" 

Here  Mrs.  Bernard  made  a  motion  to  rise,  which  was  followed 
by  the  other  ladies,  and  as  Anne  turned  away  she  said  : — 

"  You  who  have  set  me  an  example  of  desertion  can  not  be 


94 


THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


surprised  at  ray  leaving  you,  which  please  to  consider  a  punish 
ment  for  the  Princess'  wrongs," 

"  And  a  severe  one,"  said  Pownal. 

But  a  short  time  elapsed  before  the  ladies  were  rejoined  by 
the  gentlemen  in  the  withdrawing  room,  where  we  will  leave 
them  to  look  after  some  other  friends  of  ours. 

Upon  the  conclusion  of  his  duties,  Felix  had  opportunity  to 
extend  the  rights  of  hospitality  to  General  Ransome,  who,  true 
to  his  promise,  had  not  failed  to  make  his  appearance  in  due 
time  in  the  kitchen.  There  the  worthy  wurrior  had  been 
received  with  all  customary  forms  of  politeness  by  Miss  Rosa, 
and,  installed  in  a  high-back  chair,  awaited  his  share  of  the 
entertainment.  And  when  the  time  arrived,  seated  between  his 
friends,  and  opposite  two  other  servants,  there  were  few,  if  any, 
lighter  and  more  careless  hearts  that  day  than  the  General's. 
And  of  the  whole  company  it  may  be  said,  that  if  they  were 
not  refined,  they  were  at  least  merry. 

"  Ladies  and  genlmn,"  said  the  General,  soon  after  the  repast 
had  commenced,  and  seeming  to  think  the  toasts  could  not  begin 
too  soon,  "  do  me  de  satisfacshum  to  fill  you  glasses.  Wid  you 
leave  I'm  going  to  gib  a  toast." 

On  this  day  it  was  customary  to  extend  an  unusual  degree  of 
license  to  the  servants,  and  hence  there  was  no  lack  of  generous 
liquors  on  the  board,  of  the  same  descriptions  as  those  drank  by 
their  superiors.  And  to  do  them  justice,  it  was  seldom  the 
privilege  was  abused. 

The  glasses  were  quickly  filled,  and  the  General  proposed 
"  de  healt'  ob  de  fair  sec."  This  was  drunk  with  acclamation, 
and  a  gentleman  observed,  "  dat  de  whole  world  acknowledge 
de  superur  beauty  ob  de  'Merican  ladies."  This  toast  was  fol 
lowed  by  "  De  day  we  celumbrate  ;"  and  it  was  admitted  on  all 
sides  that  Thanksgiving  was  one  of  the  most  important  institu 
tions  of  the  country.  Felix,  then,  looking  at  his  friend  gave, 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  95 

"  the  heroes  of  the  'Merican  Revolution  ;"  whereupon,  the  old 
soldier  considering  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  return  thanks  for 
the  array,  requested  permission  to  make  some  remarks.  Of 
course  leave  was  readily  granted,  and  the  orator,  gracefully 
rising  and  steadying  himself  on  the  sound  leg,  with  the  other  a 
little  drawn  back,  extended  his  right  hand,  and  bowing  all  round 
began. 

"  Dere  is  noting,"  he  said,  "  so  sweet  as  liberty.  'Tis  dis  dat 
make  de  eagle  fedder  light,  and  de  bob-o-link  sich  a  good  singer. 
See  de  grand  bird  how  he  wheel  right  about  face  up  to  de  sun, 
and  hear  de  moosic  ob  de  merry  little  fellow  1 

«  Liberty,  liberty, 
Berry  nice  to  be  free  I 
Bob-o-link  where  lie  please, 
Fly  in  de  apple  trees, 
0,  'tis  de  Freedom  note 
Guggle  sweet  in  him  troat ! 
Jink-a-jink,  jink-a-jink, 
Winky  wink,  winky  wink, 
Ony  tink,  ony  tink, 
How  happy,  Bob-o-link ! 

Sweet !  Sweet ! 

"  King  George,  he  want  to  make  de  Yankees  drink  tea  instead 
ob  coffee.  Now  dere  is  no  comparishum  'atween  de  two,  and 
who  is  dere  would  drink  de  little  tea  leaves  dat  look  as  dey  been 
all  chew  and  den  roll  up,  when  he  can  git  good  coffee  ?  Now 
King  George  he  hab  a  great  lot  ob  dis  tea  on  hand,  and  it  sell 
berry  slow,  and  he  want  to  git  rid  ob  it,  so  he  send  it  to  dis 
country  wid  orders  dat  ebery  man,  woman,  and  child  shall  drink 
at  least  four  cup  a  day,  and  no  coffee.  So  Broder  Jonatan  he 
rise  like  a  cat  back,  and  he  say  (begging  you  pardon,  ladies), 
'  dam  if  I  drink  de  tea.'  And  a  great  many  ob  dem  dress  dem- 
selves  up  like  Injuns,  and  one  dark  night  dey  heab  all  de  tea 
oberboard  in  Bosson  harbor,  and  all  de  fish  get  sick,  dey  say  for 


96  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

a  week.  Now  King  George  when  he  hear  ob  all  dis  he  git  mad 
and  jerk  his  old  wig  on  de  ground,  an  stamp  on  it,  and  kick  it 
in  de  fire,  and  say  he  make  de  'Mericans  pay  for  de  tea.  And 
after  dat  he  send  a  big  army  to  dis  country,  but  it  was  no  use. 
De  'Mericans  whip  dem  orfully  at  Bunker  Hill,  and  dat  was  de 
beginning  ob  de  famous  Resolution.  And  dey  continues  to 
drink  de  coffee  ;  and  I  nebber  drink  no  better  dan  Miss  Rosa 
make  in  dis  house  (bowing  to  her).  And  for  my  'sploits  in  de 
glorious  Resolution  you  is  welcome  wid  all  my  heart,  ladies  and 
genlmn  ;  and  for  de  complemen  to  de  officers  and  sogers  I  gib 
dere  best  knowledgmn  on  dis  'casion." 

The  General  sat  down  amid  a  storm  of  applause.  Miss  Rosa 
after  the  excitement  caused  by  his  eloquence  had  subsided, 
observing  that  no  toast  had  been  given  by  any  lady,  offered  to 
make  up  the  deficiency  herself,  which  proposal  being  eagerly 
accepted,  she  gave  "  Miss  Faith  ;  and  when  she  marry  may  she 
be  happy  as  the  angels."  The  toast  was  drank  with  right  good 
will,  though  with  somewhat  more  decorum  than  the  others. 
Faith  was  greatly  beloved  by  the  servants,  to  that  degree^ 
indeed,  that  the  affectionate  creatures  doubted  whether  there 
was  any  man  in  the  world  fit  to  be  her  husband.  But,  enough 
of  toasts  and  fine  speeches.  As  the  General  very  judiciously 
observed  when  Miss  Rosa,  who  seemed  to  think  he  could  not 
have  too  many  delicacies,  nor  too  much  of  them,  offered  to  add 
to  his  already  overfilled  plate,  "  dere  is  'bundance  of  cranberry 
saace  for  dis  turkey." 

According  to  custom,  as  soon  as  it  began  to  be  dark,  the 
bonfires  were  lighted,  and  flashing  from  various  eminences  made 
luminous  the  night,  while  joyous  shouts  of  boys  answered  each 
other  across  the  rivers  and  ravines. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  bell  rang  out  its  usual  warning,  and 
before  the  clock  struck  the  next  hour,  the  inhabitants  of  Hills- 
dale  had  courted  the  repose  of  their  pillows. 


THE     LOST      HUNTER.  91 


CHAPTER  IX. 

He  was  a  man 

Whom  no  one  could  have  passed  without  remark, 
Active  and  nervous  was  his  gait ;  his  limbs 
A.nd  his  whole  figure  breathed  intelligence. 
Time  had  compressed  the  freshness  of  his  cheek 
Into  a  narrow  circle  of  deep  red, 
But  had  not  tamed  his  eye  ;  that  under  brows, 
Shaggy  and  grey,  had  meanings  which  it  brought 
From  years  of  youth. 

WORDSWORTH'S  EXCURSUS. 

THERE  were  certain  seasons  of  the  year  when  the  malady  of 
the  Solitary  assumed  a  more  serious  character  than  at  others. 
From  what  circumstance  this  proceeded  was  unknown.  It 
might  arise  from  an  association  of  ideas,  connected  in  some 
manner  with  the  events  of  his  life,  the  particulars  of  which, 
although  curious  persons  had,  at  various  times,  endeavored  to 
draw  them  from  him,  he  had  never  revealed  more  plainly  than 
in  the  conversations  with  Ohquamehud  and  the  doctor.  The 
imagination  was  left  to  wander,  therefore,  among  whatever 
speculations  respecting  him  it  chose  to  indulge  in,  and,  accord 
ingly,  there  was  no  hypothesis  that  could  be  started,  however 
absurd,  that  did  not  find  advocates. 

By  some,  he  was  supposed  to  be  a  murderer,  whom  remorse 
had  driven  from  the  haunts  of  men,  and  who  was  endeavoring 
to  expiate  his  crimes  by  self-denial  and  suffering  ;  others, 
asserted  that  he  was  the  Wandering  Jew,  though  his  long  resi 
dence  at  the  island  militated  a  little  with  the  idea  :  however, 
that  was  balanced  by  his  marked  reverence  for  the  New  Testa- 

5 


98  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

ment,  and  frequent  references  to  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  ; 
while  others  insisted  he  was  a  pirate,  who  had  buried  treasure 
on  the  lonely  island,  and  there  watched  over  its  security.  This 
last  opinion  was  received  with  especial  favor  by  the  gaping  vul 
gar,  and  further  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  the  Solitary  never 
asked  alms  or  was  destitute  of  money,  of  which,  indeed,  he 
gave  away  to  those  whom  he  considered  poorer  than  himself. 
But  whatever  was  the  truth,  or  however  anxious  the  good  peo 
ple  of  Hillsdale  might  be  to  discover  the  secret,  no  one  ven 
tured  to  meddle  with  him,  though  more  than  one  old  woman 
had  hinted  that  it  was  a  shame  he  should  be  allowed  to  run 
about  with  so  long  a  beard,  and  a  resolute  fellow  even  once  sug 
gested  the  expediency  of  arresting  him  on  suspicion.  As,  how 
ever,  his  life  was  perfectly  harmless,  and  he  had  never  been,  nor 
seemed  likely  to  become,  a  burden  to  the  town,  nor  had 
committed  any  act  of  violence,  such  counsels  were  considered 
too  harsh,  especially  as  the  attempt  to  execute  them  might 
involve  the  town  in  expense  and  other  unpleasant  consequences. 
Besides,  it  was  known  he  had  strong  friends  in  influential  fami 
lies,  who  would  not  permit  him  to  be  wronged  or  quietly  see  the 
least  of  his  rights  invaded.  The  curiosity  of  the  place,  there 
fore,  was  obliged  to  content  itself  with  surmises,  and  to  wait 
until  some  more  favorable  period  for  its  gratification. 

The  time  of  the  year  had  now  arrived  when  Holden  was  wont 
to  show  himself  more  than  usually  restless  and  excitable.  He 
had  been  wandering  one  day  since  early  in  the  morning,  shoot 
ing  partridges  and  squirrels,  until  late  in  the  afternoon  he  found 
himself  at  the  Falls  of  the  Yaupaae.  This  was  for  him  a 
favorite  place  of  resort,  and  here,  stretched  on  the  ground,  he 
would  lie  for  hours,  with  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  foaming  water, 
listening  to  the  cataract's  roar,  as  if  it  soothed  his  humor. 
Holden  threw  himself  on  the  moss  that  exuberantly  covers  the 
rocks,  and  essayed  the  spell.  But  this  time,  in  vain.  He  lay 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  99 

but  a  moment,  when,  starting  up,  he  seized  the  rifle  he  had  laid 
aside,  and  making  a  considerable  detour,  in  order  to  reach  a 
small  bridge  higher  up  the  stream,  he  crossed  it,  and  pursued 
his  way  to  the  village. 

Holden,  notwithstanding  he  had  lived  so  long  in  the  vicinity 
and  had  often  been  in  the  village,  never  made  his  appearance 
without  attracting  attention.  The  little  boys  and  girls,  and 
even  their  elders,  seldom  passed  him  without  turning  to  look 
again.  The  singularity  of  his  dress,  and  fine  tall  person,  as 
straight  as  his  rifle,  and  a  beard,  that  waved  like  a  prophet's,  on 
his  breast,  would  have  commanded  observation  anywhere 
Joined  to  this  was  an  air  of  dignity  and  gravity  that,  in  spite  of 
the  coarseness  of  his  apparel,  insured  respect.  However  much 
the  rude  and  vulgar  might  feel  disposed  to  insult,  they  were  too 
much  awed  by  his  presence  to  attempt  it.  They  might  speak 
disrespectfully,  indeed,  of  him  in  his  absence,  but  before  him 
they  were  cowed  and  mute.  The  mystery,  besides,  with  which 
their  imaginations  surrounded  him,  invested  him  with  a  power 
the  greater,  perhaps,  on  account  of  its  indefiniteness.  They 
forgot  in  gazing  at  him,  that  his  only  means  of  living  they  were 
acquainted  with  was  derived  from  the  sale  of  the  oysters  and 
fish  he  caught  in  the  river,  and  of  the  large  baskets  he  made 
with  his  own  hands.  The  meanness  of  the  occupation  was  lost 
sight  of  when  they  saw  his  majestic  appearance  and  heard  the 
grand  tones  of  his  deep  voice. 

Holden  proceeded  down  the  street,  hardly  recognizing — 
though  such  was  not  his  wont — the  friendly  greetings  with 
which  he  was  saluted  by  many  that  passed,  until  he  arrived 
opposite  the  house  of  Mr.  Armstrong.  Here  his  progress  was 
arrested  by  a  tap  on  a  window,  and  looking  up  he  saw  the 
bright  face  of  Miss  Armstrong,  who  was  beckoning  to  him. 
He  stopped  ;  the  face  disappeared  to  re-appear  at  the  door,  and 


100  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

Faith  invited  him  to  come  in.  He  hesitated,  but  the  irresolu 
tion  was  only  momentary,  for  instantly  he  turned  and  entered 
the  house. 

"  I  doubted,"  he  said,  "  whether  it  were  right  to  inflict  the 
gloom  of  an  old  man  on  one  so  young.  What  have  age  and 
despondency  in  common  with  youth  and  happiness  ?" 

"  But  you  do  not  doubt  my  sympathy  ?  Is  there  anything 
I  would  not  do  to  make  you  happy,  Father  Holden  ?" 

"  No.  I  trust  in  thee  as  a  parent  in  his  child.  Thou  art  as 
incapable  of  deception  as  the  heavens  of  a  stain.  I  have 
known  thee,  Faith,  since  thou  wast  a  child,  and  thou  hast 
always  had  an  influence  over  me.  As  the  notes  of  the  youthful 
harper  of'  Israel  scared  away  the  demons  from  the  bosom  of 
Saul,  so  do  the  tones  of  thy  voice  thrill  me  like  a  melody  from 
the  past.  So  tell  me  of  thyself  and  of  all  that  concerns  thee, 
so  far,  at  least,  as  thou  canst  impart  thy  thoughts  and  feelings 
to  one  like  me." 

"  The  subjects  that  engage  the  attention  of  a  young  woman 
can  have  little  interest  for  you,  father." 

"  Believe  it  not.  Though  my  heart  be  sore,  it  has  not  lost  all 
its  earlier  feelings." 

"I  cannot  speak  of  myself,"  said  Faith.  "My  life  has  been 
too  destitute  of  incident  to  deserve  mention,  and  it  is  already 
known  to  you." 

"  What  callest  thou  life  ?  Is  it,"  he  continued,  fixing  his  eyes 
on  the  carpet,  and  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  "  the  few  gasps  that 
agitate  the  bosom  here  ?  If  that  were  all,  it  were  of  but  little 
more  consequence  than  any  other  sigh.  But  this  is  only  the 
beginning.  It  is  the  lighting  of  the  spark  that  shall  blaze  a 
glorious  star,  or  burn  a  lurid  conflagration  for  ever."  He 
stopped  ;  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  face  of  Faith,  whose  own 
were  fastened  on  him,  and  gazed  fondly  on  her  ;  his  features 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  101 

assumed  a  softened  expression ;  and,  as  if  a  new  train  of  thought 
had  driven  out  the  old,  he  added,  "blessed  are  the  pure  in 
heart,  for  they  shall  see  God." 

Apparently,  these  exclamations  affected  Faith  with  no  sur 
prise.  She  had  probably  listened  to  similar  conversations,  and 
simply  replied  : 

"  Who  shall  say  his  heart  is  pure  ?" 

"If  not  thon,  then  none.  Sad  thought,  that  the  poisoned 
tongue  of  the  snake  in  Eden,  should  taint  even  a  being  so  fair  as 
thon."  * 

"  Father,"  said  Faith,  who  was  desirous  of  changing  a  con 
versation  which  began  to  be  embarrassing,  for  to  such  ejacula 
tions  it  was  impossible  to  return  reasonable  answers,  "  do  you 
love  the  loneliness  of  your  island  as  much  as  ever  ?  Would  it 
not  be  more  prudent  to  pass  the  winter  months  in  the  village  ?" 

"Thou  art  not  the  only  one  whose  kindness  hath  asked  the 
question.  But,  in  my  youth  I  learned  to  love  solitude,  though 
it  was  forced  on  me  in  the  beginning.  The  dungeon  and  the 
chain  introduced  me  to  its  acquaintance ;  yet,  such  is  the  kind 
ness  of  Providence,  that,  what  at  first  I  hated,  I  afterwards 
learned  to  love.  Know,  too,  that  I  hav*e  lived  in  the  boundless 
forest,  until  an  inhabited  street  cramps  my  breast  and  stifles  my 
breath  ;  nor  am  I  ever  less  alone  than  when  alone  with  God. 
Ask  me  not,  then,  though  thy  intentions  be  kind,  to  renounce  a 
mode  of  life  which  habit  hath  made  a  second  nature.'7 

"  Tell  me  of  your  adventures." 

"  Hold  !  Wouldst  thou  hear  of  a  youth  blasted  by  unkind- 
ness  ;  of  prostrate  hopes,  and  scenes  of  revenge  and  horror  ? 
Nay,  thou  kuowest  not  what  thou  askest." 

"It  was  not  through  mere  curiosity  I  made  the  request. 
Those  who  love  you  would  willingly  know  more,  that  they  may 
be  the  better  able  to  promote  your  welfare." 

"  The  motive,"  said  Holden,  taking  her  hand,  and  holding  it 


102  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

an  instant,  "  is  kind,  my  child ;  but  what  purpose  would  it  serve? 
The  time  will  come  when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be 
revealed  :  then  let  the  story  of  my  crimes  and  wrongs  be 
blazoned  to  the  world." 

Faith  attached  little  credence  to  confessions  of  crimes  which 
Holden  intimated  he  had  committed.  Had  she  done  so,  she 
might  have  felt  alarm  at  being  thus  alone  with  him.  But  his 
presence,  so  far  from  inspiring  her  with  terror,  had  something 
unaccountable  of  attraction.  His  self-accusation  she  considered 
exaggerations  of  a  morbid  fancy  that  converted  common  errors 
into  unpardonable  sins.  Hers  was  a  charity  that  could  think  no 
evil,  and  in  her  imagination  she  had  long  since  formed  a  theory 
that,  to  her  pure  mind,  made  him  an  object  of  deep  interest.  In 
Holden  she  saw  a  man  of  superior  endowments  and  breeding — 
his  manners  and  language  so  far  above  those  of  most  around 
her,  proved  both  ;  who,  by  undeserved  misfortunes  had  partially 
lost  his  reason,  and,  like  the  stricken  deer,  left  the  herd  to  die 
alone.  Sometimes  she  would  fill  up  the  picture  with  scenes  from 
his  supposed  life,  at  one  time  of  one  character,  and  at  another 
time  of  another ;  but  they  were  merely  sports  of  the  imagina 
tion,  changing  figures  of  a  kaleidoscope  which  employed  without 
satisfying  the  mind.  Of  the  truth  of  her  general  hypothesis  she 
was  quite  convinced,  nor  without  hope  that  her  old  friend  would 
be  restored  to  society  and  the  position  which  she  considered  his 
due.  As  children  instinctively  know  those  who  love  them,  so 
must  Holden  have  originally  had  some  idea  of  the  feelings  of 
Faith,  and  by  it  been  drawn  closer  to  her.  Certainly,  there  was 
no  one  in  whose  society  he  took  more  pleasure,  or  whom  he  was 
more  desirous  to  please. 

At  this  stage  of  the  conversation,  the  door  opened,  and  Mr. 
Armstrong  entered.  He  advanced  to  Holden,  whose  hand  he 
took,  and  welcomed  with  much  cordiality.  It  was  no  new  thing 
for  him  to  see  the  Recluse  in  his  parlor.  His  daughter's  par- 


THE     LOST      HUNTER.  103 

tiality  he  well  knew,  of  course  ;  and  although,  in  his  opinion,  it 
was  somewhat  extraordinary  that  a  young  lady  should  be 
attracted  by  Holden,  he  accounted  for  the  circumstance  by 
ascribing  it  to  the  romance  in  her  nature,  of  which  she  had  no 
common  share. 

The  contrast  was  strong  betwixt  the  appearance  of  the  two 
men.  On  the  one  hand,  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  adornment 
of  the  handsome  parlor,  stood  the  delicate  person  of  Mr.  Arm 
strong,  with  cropped  hair  and  close-shaven  face,  in  a  suit  of  fine 
black  cloth  and  muslin  cravat  of  spotless  white,  representing  a 
refined,  perhaps  enervated  phase  of  civilization  ;  on  the  other, 
the  stately  and  vigorous  form  of  Holden,  in  a  clean  but  coarse 
gray  frock,  girt  around  the  waist  with  a  sash,  with  long  hair 
falling  on  his  neck,  and  unshorn  beard,  looking  like  one  better 
acquainted  with  the  northern  blast  than  with  the  comforts  of 
curtains  and  carpets. 

"It  is  not  often,  brother  Holden/7  said  Mr.  Armstrong, 
addressing  him  by  an  epithet  sometimes  applied  to  him,  "  that  I 
am  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  you  in  my  house." 

"  Dost  thou  speak  from  the  heart,  James  Armstrong,"  replied 
Holden,  "or  art  thou  flattering  me  with  empty  conventionalities?" 

The  melancholy  face  of  Mr.  Armstrong  looked  distressed, 
but,  remembering  the  wayward  humor  of  the  other,  he  gently 
answered  : 

"  I  am  sorry  the  form  of  expression  displeases  you  ;  but  I 
assure  you  I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

ft  Nay,"  said  Holden,  "  let  me  rather  beg  pardon  for  my  rude 
ness  ;  and  that  I  fully  believe  thee,  be  my  presence  here  the 
proof.  I  owe  thee  many  obligations  through  thy  daughter,  and 
there  are  times  when  it  does  me  good  to  be  with  her.  It  is  then 
I  fancy  I  hear  in  her  voice  the  tones  of  the  long  lost,  and  they 
come  not  with  a  wail  of  sorrow,  but  like  a  welcome  and  an  invi 
tation." 


104 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


"The  lost!"  softly  said  Armstrong,  falling  insensibly,  and  as 
by  some  mesmeric  process,  into  a  corresponding  train  of  feeling, 
"  the  lost !  how  soon  drop  away  from  our  sides  those  who  made 
the  morning  of  life  so  pleasant !" 

"Man  is  born  to  trouble,  as  the  sparks  fly  upward,-7  said 
Holden.  "  He  cometh  froin  the  womb  of  darkness,  and  re- 
turneth  thither  again." 

The  two  men  drew  their  chairs  nearer  each  other.  It  seemed 
as  if  a  new  community  of  thought  and  feeling  had  been  estab 
lished  between  them. 

"You  have  suffered,"  said  Armstrong,  "  perhaps  lost  all  your 
dear  ones,  and,  in  that,  more  miserable  than  I ;  for,  have  I  not 
left  my  Faith  ?  But  the  hand  that  inflicted  the  wound  can  heal, 
and  I  trust  the  balm  has  been  poured  in." 

The  countenance  of  Holden  was  agitated  ;  his  lips  trembled, 
and,  in  a  broken  voice,  he  replied  : 

"  The  nearest  and  dearest  are  gone.  Yet  hath  God  left  me 
some  comfort  in  my  affliction.  I  am  not  entirely  bereft." 

"  In  the  promises  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  you  find  consolation. 
Happy  the  soul  that  draws  comfort  from  their  sacred  pages  !" 

"  I  meant  not  entirely  so.  But  it  avails  not  now  to  explain. 
Yet  art  thou  right.  I  do  find  in  the  precious  Book  my  dearest 
hope.  Without  it,  I  were  miserable  indeed." 

"  And  it  sustains  you  under  every  trial  and  temptation  ?" 

"Assuredly.  For  that  very  purpose  was  it  given,  that  man 
might  not  sink  under  the  mystery  of  existence  ;  that  in  its  pages 
he  should  find  hope."  * 

"  And  you  find  in  it  the  warrant  of  your  salvation  ?" 

"  I  strive  to  work  out  my  salvation,  with  fear  and  trembling." 

"  There  are  many  who  strive  to  enter,  who  shall  not  be  able. 
How  may  one  be  assured  of  safety  ?" 

"  There  is  a  justification  by  faith.  Hast  thou  never  tasted  of 
its  sweetness  TJ 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  105 

"  Alas  1  no,"  exclaimed  Armstrong.  "  I  have  prayed  for  it, 
and  longed  for  it  in  vain.  The  threatenings  of  the  Gospel  and 
not  its  promises  are  mine." 

"Father,  dear  father,  how  can  you  speak  so  wildly?"  cried 
his  daughter,  throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissing  his 
pale  cheek. 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment,  then  putting  her  away,  gently, 
again  addressed  Holden  : 

"  Have  you  no  word  of  comfort  for  me  ?" 

"Faint  not ;  neither  be  tired  of  well-doing,"  answered  Holden, 
"  and  I  doubt  not  that  the  cloud  which  now  concealeth  the 
divine  countenance  will  depart,  and  thou  shalt  attain  the  peace 
that  passeth  understanding." 

"  Have  you  attained  it?  Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  be  justi 
fied  by  faith  ?" 

"I  have  that  blessed  experience,"  cried  the  enthusiast. 
"  Those  whom  He  called  He  justified.  I  am  a  brand  plucked 
from  the  burning — a  monument  of  abounding  mercy." 

"Tell  me,  then,"  exclaimed  Armstrong,  "what  are  the  signs 
by  which  it  may  be  known  ?"  He  said  this  eagerly,  and  with 
an  air  of  the  intensest  interest. 

"  I  feel  it,"  cried  Holden,  rising  and  standing  before  him,  "in 
the  hatred  that  I  bear  towards  all  that  conflicts  with  His  will  ; 
in  the  love  with  which  I  read  His  word  ;  in  the  willingness  to 
suffer  all  things  for  the  glory  of  His  name,  and  to  be  damned 
for  ever,  if  such  be  His  purpose  ;  I  feel  it  in  that,  through  His 
grace,  I  can  trample  the  world  under  foot,  and  bear  whatever 
cross  His  decree  imposes  ;  in  the  struggle  and  the  aspiration  to 
be  more  like  Him,  and  in  that  His  sovereign  grace  hath  chosen 
me  to  reveal  unto  me  His  salvation  and  the  knowledge  of  His 
speedy  coming." 

It  is  impossible  to  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  the  manner  in 
which  this  was  spoken.  Words  cannot  describe  the  voice,  or 

5* 


106  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

paint  the  wild  gleams  of  enthusiasm  that,  like  lightning-flashes, 
coursed  each  other  over  the  features  of  Holden,  as,  without  a 
gesture,  and  immovable  as  a  rock,  an  image  of  undoubting  con 
fidence,  he  delivered  himself  of  this  extraordinary  speech.  Nor, 
carried  away  by  its  impassioned  utterance,  were  either  Arm 
strong  or  his  daughter  aware  of  its  full  fanaticism.  But  the 
impression  made  upon  the  two  was  somewhat  diverse,  and 
marked  how  differently  the  chords  of  their  minds  were  tuned. 
With  all  her  reverence  for  the  Enthusiast,  Faith  could  riot  hear 
his  wild  avowal  without  pain,  notwithstanding  it  was  stamped 
with  all  the  honesty  of  conviction,  and  her  own  creed  taught 
'that  such  a  degree  of  spiritual  elevation  might  be  attained  ; 
while  her  father  listened  with  a  sad  admiration,  not  unmixed 
with  self-abasement  and  almost  envy. 

After  a  pause,  Armstrong  said  :  "If  such  are  the  evidences 
of  justification  and  a  saving  faith,  then  have  I  had  them,  too  ; 
but  why  bring  they  to  me  no  confidence  or  holy  joy  ?  Why  is 
my  soul  cast  down,  and  why  do  I  feel  like  one  who  stumbles 
towards  a  pit  ?  Alas  !  my  flesh  quivers  and  my  heart  trembles 
at  the  thought  of  falling  into  His  hands." 

"  It  is  prayer  that  opens  heaven,"  said  Holden.  "  Jf  thou 
wilt,  we  will  unite  our  hearts  in  supplication.  Peradventure  the 
Lord  may  send  a  blessing." 

A  mute  assent  was  the  reply  from  Armstrong  ;  the  three 
knelt  down  together,  and  Holden  poured  out  a  prayer,  into 
which  he  concentrated  his  glowing  feelings.  He  described  them 
selves  as  covered  all  over  with  crimes,  like  a  leprosy  ;  as  willful 
and  determined  rebels  ;  as  not  only  unworthy  of  the  least  of 
God's  mercies,  of  the  warm  sun  and  refreshing  rain,  but  deserv 
ing  of  the  torments  of  the  bottomless  pit  ;  but  entreated  that, 
devoid  of  all  merit,  as  they  were*  and  justly  exposed  to  His 
wrath,  their  aggravated  offences  might  be  pardoned  for  the  sake 
of  One  who  had  taken  their  burden  upon  Himself,  and  that  they 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  107 

might  be  of  the  number  of  the  elect,  whom  the  for eordi nation  of 
God  had  predestined  to  salvation.  He  concluded  with  beseech 
ing  that  the  balm  of  peace  might  be  poured  into  his  afflicted 
brother's  heart,  that  his  ears  might  be  opened  to  hear  the  truth, 
and  his  eyes  to  see  how  near  was  the  great  and  terrible  day  of 
the  Lord,  and  that,  as  in  ancient  days  chosen  women  were  raised 
up  to  do  mighty  works,  even  so  Faith  might  be  made  an  instru 
ment  to  proclaim  His  power  abroad. 

As  the  three  rose  from  their  knees,  a  change  seemed,  during 
the  prayer,  to  have  passed  over  the  little  circle.  Holden  was 
invested  with  an  authority  not  felt  before.  Neither  his  speech 
nor  dress  was  as  strange  as  formerly.  He  had  become  a 
teacher  to  be  honored.  It  was  the  influence  of  a  mind  origin 
ally  powerful,  and  which,  though  shattered,  exercised  the  con 
trol  of  a  strong  wiff,  guided  by  an  earnest  fanaticism. 


108  THE      LOST      HUNTER 


CHAPTER  X. 

Thus  as  he  spake,  his  visage  waxed  pale, 
And  chaunge  of  hew  great  passion  did  bewray, 

Tett  still  he  strove  to  cloke  his  inward  bale, 
And  hide  the  smoke  that  did  his  fire  display. 

SPENSER'S  FAERY  QOEENB. 

THE  request  of  Mr.  Armstrong,  supported  by  the  pleadings  of 
his  daughter,  prevailed  upon  Holden  to  remain  to  tea,  and 
afterwards  to  accompany  them  to  the  "  conference,"  as  a  meeting 
for  religious  purposes  held  usually  on  some  particular  evening  of 
the  week,  was  called.  Upon  the  conclusion  of  the  service  he  was 
to  return  with  them  and  pass  the  night  at  the  house  of  his  host. 
It  was  not  without  difficulty  he  allowed  his  objections  to  be  over 
ruled,  nor  was  he  ever  known  before  to  have  accepted  such  an 
invitation.  But  it  had  seemed  of  late  that  as  his  influence  with 
Miss  Armstrong  increased,  so  did  hers  over  him,  until  he  became 
unable  to  deny  her  slightest  wish.  Perhaps,  too,  the  events  of 
the  afternoon,  by  bringing  him  more  intimately  into  communion 
with  sufferings  like  those  through  which  he  had  passed,  had 
softened  his  sternness  and  disposed  him  more  for  human  com 
panionship. 

The  little  building  where  the  "  conference  "  met  was  of  the 
humblest  pretensions.  It  was  a  weather-stained,  unpainted 
wooden  edifice  of  one  story,  standing  at  no  great  distance  from 
the  meeting-house,  and  capable  of  containing  comfortably,  pro 
bably  a  hundred  people.  The  interior  was  almost  as  rude  and 
unattractive  as  the  exterior,  the  walls  being  coarsely  plastered 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  109 

and  dingy  with  smoke  that  had  escaped  from  a  cast-iron  stove 
which  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Benches  with  backs 
were  placed  parallel  to  one  another,  and  facing  a  sort  of  rostrum 
or  reading-desk,  to  which  a  passage  betwixt  the  benches  led. 
The  inside  work  was  equally  innocent  of  paint  as  the  outside. 

On  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Armstrong  with  his  companions,  they 
found  the  room  only  partly  occupied,  nor  had  the  exercises  com 
menced.  According  to  a  custom  which  would  have  struck  a 
stranger  as  singular,  but  which,  doubtless,  was  founded  in  a 
knowledge  of  the  nature  of  young  men  and  young  women,  the 
males  were  seated  on  one  side  of  the  passage,  and  the  females  on 
the  other.  The  separation,  as  might  be  expected,  only  partly 
answered  the  purpose,  being  unable  to  arrest  the  glances  which, 
with  quite  as  much  of  earth  as  of  heaven  in  them,  crossed  the 
intervening  space.  These,  however,  were  stolen,  and  managed 
in  such  a  quiet  way  as  not  materially  to  affect  the  devotions  of 
the  elders.  In  compliance  with  an  usage,  a  breach  of  which 
would  have  violated  propriety,  Faith,  withdrawing  her  arm  from 
her  father's,  glided  into  a  seat  among  her  own  sex  on  the  right, 
while  Mr.  Armstrong  and  Holden  sought  places  on  the  left. 

The  appearance  of  the  Solitary  entering  the  little  place  of 
worship,  striding  up  the  passage  with  his  usual  air  of  dignity  and 
composure,  and  taking  a  seat  among  the  principal  members  of 
the  church,  occasioned  great  surprise.  Although  differing  little, 
probably,  in  religious  sentiments  ^except  in  one  point)  from  those 
around  him,  he  had  never  united  with  them  in  religious  worship. 
He  was,  therefore,  notwithstanding  his  frequent  allusions  to  the 
Scriptures,  considered  generally  more  in  the  light  of  a  heathen 
than  of  a  Christian  man,  and  the  apparition  of  Plato  or  Socrates 
would  hardly  have  excited  more  observation.  Many,  in  conse 
quence,  were  the  looks  bent  on  him  by  those  present,  and  those 
who  afterwards  came  in. 

But  of  them,  or  of  any  sensation  caused  by  his  presence,  he 


110  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

seemed  utterly  unconscious.  With  arms  folded  and  head 
drooped  upon  his  chest,  he  shut  his  eyes  and  abandoned 
himself  to  meditation. 

"  Massy  on  us,"  whispered  Miss  Green,  the  mantua-maker,  to 
her  next  neighbor,  Miss  Thompson,  the  tailoress,  "  if  here  ain't 
old  Holdeu.  I  wonder  what  fetches  him  here." 

"  And  did  you  see  !"  said  Miss  Thompson,  whispering  in  like 
manner-,  "he  came  in  with  the  Armstrongs.  I  always  did 
admire  what  they  could  see  in  him  to  like." 

"I  guess,"  said  Miss  Green,  "  he  feels  kind  o'  awkward. 
Look  how  he's  folded  his  arms.  It's  so  long  since  he's  been  to 
meeting  or  conference,  if  he  was  ever  in  such  a  place  before  ;  he 
don't  know  how  to  behave." 

"There's  no  sort  o'  set  about  his  clothes,"  observed  Miss 
Thompson.  "  They  look  as  if  he  made  them  himself." 

"  Perhaps  he  did,  but  they're  good  enough  to  go  with  Faith 
Armstrong's  cloak"  (which  had  been  made  by  a  rival  artiste), 
responded  Miss  Green.  "What  dark  colors  she  wears,  no 
variety,  and  how  dreadful  old  they  make  her  look  1" 
"Hushl"  said  Miss  Thompson,  "the  deacon's  going  to  open." 
During  the  colloquy  of  the  two  spinsters  a  grave,  respectable- 
looking  man,  somewhat  advanced  hi  years,  had  taken  a  seat 
behind  the  reading-desk,  and  opening  the  large  Bible  that  lay 
upon  it,  selected  a  chapter,  and  now  invited  the  attention  of  the 
audience  to  its  contents.  Upon  its  conclusion  he  gave  out  a 
hymn,  the  tune  of  which  was  announced  by  another  person,  who 
immediately  on  naming  it  pulled  out  a  pitch-pipe  from  his  pocket 
and  making  a  slight  sound,  furnished  the  starting  note.  The 
singing  proceeded  principally  from  a  certain  part  of  the  room, 
as  if  by  some  understanding  the  singers  had  been  collected 
together,  although  scattered  sounds  also,  of  either  rumbling 
bass  or  shrill  treble  whose  trembling  modulations  betrayed  the 
advanced  age  of  the  performers,  were  here  and  there  heard. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  Ill 

Some  of  these  guerrilla  passages  were  sadly  out  of  time  and 
tune,  and  according  to  the  humor  of  the  hearer  might  either 
provoke  a  smile  or  start  a  tear.  The  gay  and  thoughtless 
might,  indeed,  laugh  at  the  wavering  and  undecided  notes,  but 
to  the  reflecting  mind  there  was  something  profoundly  pathetic 
in  the  feeble  tribute  to  the  praise  of  their  Maker,  of  those 
whose  voices  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature  must  soon  be 
silent  in  the  grave. 

After  the  singing  was  ended,  the  person  who  had  hitherto 
officiated  invited  Deacon  Baldwin,  calling  him  by  name,  to  make 
a  prayer.  Hereupon  the  deacon  rose,  and  folding  his  hands 
complied  with  the  request,  while  most  of  the  congregation 
respectfully  bent  forward,  or  covered  their  faces  with  their 
handkerchiefs.  The  prayer  evidently  came  from  a  sincere  and 
earnest  heart,  but  contained  nothing  that  requires  it  should  be 
recorded.  Another  hymn  was  then  sung,  upon  the  conclusion 
of  which  followed  the  sermon. 

The  person  who  came  forward  to  perform  this  office  was  a 
short,  thick-set  man,  of  middle  age,  with  a  bull  neck.  His 
features  were  harsh  and  severe,  and  stamped  with  an  expression 
of  mortification,  though  the  gr»ss  animality  of  the  mouth  and 
chin  too  plainly  revealed  how  many  and  desperate  were  the 
conflicts  it  must  have  cost  him  to  become  a  saint.  As  he 
passed  to  the  reading-desk  his  clothes  brushed  Holden,  who 
shrunk  from  the  touch.  The  Solitary  looked  up,  but  as  if  what 
he  saw  was  displeasing,  he  averted  his  face  and  shut  his 
eyes. 

The  first  thing  done  by  Davenport  on  reaching  the  desk,  and 
casting  a  furtive  glance  around,  was  to  draw  an  East  India  silk 
handkerchief  out  of  his  pocket,  and  having  noticed  a  spittoon 
by  his  side,  to  blow  his  nose  sonorously.  He  then  cleared  his 
throat  two  or  three  times,  and  commenced  reading. 

It  happened,  singularly  enough,  that  the  subject  was  prophecy, 


112  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

considered  as  evidence  of  the  divine  inspiration  of  the  Scrip 
tures.  The  writer,  after  referring  to  the  fulfillment  of  many 
prophecies  contained  in  the  Old  Testament,  came  to  those  in 
the  New,  and  amongst  others  he  spoke  of  that  in  which  Christ 
alludes  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem.  He  said  that  even  in 
the  times  of  the  Apostles,  there  were  persons  who,  by  putting 
too  literal  a  construction  upon  the  words,  were  misled  into 
believing  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand,  and  that  there 
had  never  been  a  time  when  there  were  not  victims  to  the  same 
delusion. 

It  was  impossible,  with  reference  to  the  condition  of  Holden's 
mind,  to  have  selected  either  a  topic  or  reader  more  unsuitable. 
The  aversion  he  had  manifested  at  first  increased  every  moment. 
It  was  one  of  those  antipathies  as  unquestionable  as  they  are 
unaccountable.  It  at  first  exhibited  itself  in  restlessness,  and 
an  inability  to  remain  quiet,  and  afterwards  in  half-suppressed 
groans  and  sighs.  If  he  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  the 
reader,  he  saw  a  devilish  figure,  with  a  malignant  leer  glaring 
at  him  ;  if  he  shut  them  to  exclude  the  disagreeable  image  it 
was  converted  into  a  thousand  smaller  figures,  dancing  up  and 
down  like  motes  in  a  distempered  vision,  all  wearing  that  intole 
rable  grin,  while  the  whole  time  a  hissing  sound,  as  if  it  came 
from  a  snake,  whispered  in  his  ears  temptations  to  some  deadly 
sin.  It  was  a  trial  the  shattered  nerves  of  the  enthusiast  were 
ill  qualified  to  bear,  and,  finally,  a  torture  beyond  his  powers  of 
endurance.  The  very  force  of  the  reasons  urged  by  the  writer  dis 
tressed  him  more  and  more.  They  seemed  to  his  disordered  imagi 
nation  the  subtle  enticements  of  an  evil  spirit  to  lure  him  from  the 
truth,  and  Davenport  an  emissary  of  Satan,  if  not  the  arch- 
deceiver  himself.  No  adequate  answers  to  doctrines  which  he 
was  persuaded  were  false  presented  themselves  to  his  mind,  and 
this  he  ascribed  to  some  hellish  spell,  which  fettered  his  reason, 
and  must  soon  be  broken,  or  he  was  lost.  Mentally,  then,  first 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  113 

ejaculating  a  prayer,  he  suddenly  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  in  a 
loud  voice  bade  the  reader  to  stop. 

"Forbear,"  he  cried,  "man  of  sin,  to  seduce  the  people  with 
these  soul-damning  and  abominable  lies.  I  conjure  thee, 
Satan,  to  leave  the  body  of  this  man,  and  depart.  Ha  I  thou 
wouldst  lull  them  into  security  that  they  may  slumber  and  have 
no  oil  in  their  lamps  when  the  Bridegroom  cometh,  when  He 
cometh  in  the  clouds  of  heaven.  My  soul  have  not  thou  thy 
portion  with  the  unbelievers." 

The  words  were  uttered  with  wonderful  vehemence  and 
rapidity,  and  upon  their  conclusion,  he  strode  with  long  strides 
down  the  passage  towards  the  door.  Not  an  exclamation  was 
heard,  not  a  hand  raised  to  stay  his  departure,  so  stupefied  were 
all  with  astonishment.  Upon  leaving  the  room  he  rushed  into 
the  street,  and,  forgetful  of  his  promise  to  Mr.  Armstrong,  took 
his  way  to  his  own  hut.  The  tything  man,  awakening  from  his 
lethargy,  and  a  few  others  recovering  their  presence  of  mind, 
went  at  last  to  the  door,  and  gazed  up  and  down  the  street,  but 
the  disturber  of  the  meeting  was  not  in  sight,  nor,  sooth  to  say, 
were  any  of  the  number  sorry,  or  wished  to  meet  him  that 
night.  Contenting  themselves,  therefore,  with  this  slight 
demonstration  of  zeal,  they  returned  to  the  Conference-room. 
There,  great  as  was  the  scandal  occasioned  by  the  interruption, 
all  things  soon  settled  down  into  their  usual  course,  and  the 
meeting  was  regularly  concluded  and  dismissed. 


114  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Angelo. — We  must  not  make  a  scarecrow  of  the  law, 
Setting  it  up  to  fear  the  birds  of  prey, 
And  let  it  keep  one  shape,  till  custom  make  it 
Their  perch,  and  not  their  terror. 

MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 

THE  events  of  the  preceding  evening  caused  quite  a  sensation 
in  the  village.  We  shall  better  understand  the  various  opinions 
and  feelings  of  the  inhabitants  by  stepping,  at  about  eleven 
o'clock  the  following  morning,  into  the  shop,  or,  as  it  was  called 
in  those  days,  and  would  generally  be  called  now,  the  "store" 
of  Truman  and  Jenkins.  This  was  an  establishment  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  where  it  hung  out  its  sign,  in  company  with  several 
others  of  the  same  character,  which  professed  to  supply  all  the 
wants  of  the  community.  Here  everything  was  to  be  had  from 
a  gallon  of  molasses  to  a  skein  of  thread,  or  a  quintal  of  cod 
fish,  to  a  pound  of  nails.  On  one  side,  as  you  entered,  were 
ranges  of  shelves,  protected  by  a  counter,  on  which  were 
exposed  rolls  of  flannels  of  divers  colors,  and  calico  and  broad 
cloth,  and  other  "dry  goods,"  while  a  showcase  on  the  counter 
contained  combs,  and  tooth-brushes,  and  soaps,  and  perfumery, 
and  a  variety  of  other  small  articles.  The  back  of  the  store 
was  used  as  a  receptacle  for  hogsheads  of  molasses,  and 
puncheons  of  rum  and  wine,  and  barrels  of  whisky  and  sugar. 
Overhead  and  on  the  posts  were  hung  pails,  and  rakes,  and 
iron"  chains,  and  a  thousand  things  necessary  to  the  complete 
enjoyment  of  civilization.  On  the  other  side  was  a  small  count 
ing-room  partitioned  off,  with  a  door,  the  upper  part  of  which 


THK      LOST      HUNTER.  115 

was  glass,  for  the  convenience  of  looking  into  the  shop,  in  order 
to  be  ready  to  attend  to  the  wants  of  such  customers  as  might 
come  in.  This  little  room,  scarcely  eight  feet  square,  contained 
a  small  close  stove,  around  which  were  gathered  some  half  a 
dozen  persons. 

"I  say,  squire,"  exclaimed  Tom  Gladding,  a  tall,  awkward, 
good-natured  looking  fellow,  with  legs  sprawling  out,  and  heels 
on  the  top  of  the  stove,  addressing  himself  to  a  man  in  a  black 
suit,  rather  better  dressed  than  the  others,  "  what  do  you  think 
of  this  here  rusty  old  Father  Holden  cut  up  last  night  at  Con 
ference  ?" 

Squire  Miller,  as  one  in  authority,  and  who  might  be  called 
to  adjudicate  upon  the  case,  and  for  other  reasons  of  his  own, 
was  not  disposed  to  commit  himself,  he,  therefore,  cautiously 
replied,  more  Novo  Anglicano,  by  asking  another  question, 
"  Were  you  there,  Mr.  Gladding  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  laughing  ;  "  the  old  folks  used  to  make  me 
go  so  regular,  when  I  was  a  boy,  I  guess  I've  done  my  part. 
So  after  a  while  I  give  it  up." 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  ever  gave  it  up,"  said  the  squire.  "  You 
might  get  a  great  deal  of  good  from  it." 

"There's  two  opinions  about  that,"  said  Tom.  "You  see, 
squire,  as  long  as  mother  was  alive,  I  always  went  with  her 
regular,  'cause  it  kind  o'  comforted  her,  though  somehow  or 
other  I  never  took  to  it.  So  when  she  died  I  sort  o'  slacked  off 
'till  now  it's  'ecu  amost  two  year  since  I  been  in." 

"They  say,"  observed  Mr.  Jenkins,  "they've  took  the  old 
man  up." 

"I'm  sorry  for  that,"  cried  Tom.  "  To  go  to  take  up  a  kind 
o'  half-crazy  man  for  speaking  in  rneetin'  1" 

''Why,"  inquired  the  squire,  "would  you  allow  the  man  to 
go  about  disturbing  the  neighbors  as  he  pleased  ?" 

"I  never  heard  tell  of  his   disturbing  nobody,"  said  Tom. 


116  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"  Just  take  him  off  his  notions  about  the  ten  vargins  and  their 
lamps,  and  the  judgment  day,  and  I  don't  know  a  likelier  man 
than  old  Holdeu.  In  my  opinion,  he's  a  cleverer  fellow  than 
Davenport,  by  a  long  shot." 

"  I  don't  believe  he's  been  caught,"  said  a  man  in  a  pee-jacket, 
who,  from  his  appearance,  was  a  fisherman.  "I  passed  his 
island  this  morning  about  sunrise,  with  a  boatload  of  oysters, 
and  I  see  the  old  man  at  his  door." 

"Well,"  observed  Mr.  Jenkins,  "I  hope  he  isn't.  It's 
enough  to  make  a  body  puke  up  his  boots  to  hear  Davenport, 
and  I  don't  much  blame  Holden  for  cutting  him  short." 

"  I  heard  somebody  say,"  said  Gladding,  "  that  the  old  man 
shook  his  fist  right  in  old  Davenport's  face,  and  told  him  up 
and  down  he  was  a  good  for  nothing  liar.  I  want  to  know  if 
he  can  sue  him,  squire  ?" 

"  Why,  as  to  that,"  answered  Miller,  who  being  appealed  to 
on  a  question  of  law,  conceived  it  necessary  to  show  his  learn 
ing,  "  if  a  man  strikes  at  me  within  striking  distance,  I  can  sue 
him  for  assault,  though  he  shouldn't  touch  me.  That  I  call 
one  of  the  nice  pints  of  the  law.  I  decided  so  myself  in  the 
case  of  Samuel  Pond  versus  Ezekiel  Backus.  You  see  Pond 
and  Backus  had  a  little  quarrel  about  some  potatoes  Pond  sold 
him,  and  Pond  got  mad,  and  told  Backus  he  lied.  Backus  is 
rather  hasty,  and  doubled  up  his  fist,  and  put  it  near  Pond's 
nose,  and  insinuated  that  if  he  said  that  again  he  would  knock 
him  down."  Here  the  squire  paused,  and  looked  round  to  see 
what  impression  he  was  making  on  his  audience,  and  the 
momentary  silence  was  taken  advantage  of  by  Gladding  to 
observe  : 

"  That  Pond's  a  mean  cuss." 

The  justice  took  no  further  notice  of  honest  Tom's  not  very 
complimentary  remark  than  to  cast  at  him  a  look  of  angry  sur 
prise,  which  the  other  endured  with  complete  indifference. 


THE      LOST      HUNTEK.  117 

"So,"  continued  Squire  Miller,  "Pond  went  to  Lawyer 
Tippit,  and  he  brought  the  suit  before  me.  Backus  pleaded 
his  own  case,  but  lie  had  a  fool  for  a  client  ;  the  law  was  all 
against  him,  and  I  had  to  fine  him  a  dollar  and  cost." 

"That's  considerable  to  pay,"  exclaimed  Tom,  "just  for  skin 
ning  such  a  fellow's  nose  as  Sam  Pond's  (I've  heard  of  the  case 
afore),  but  you  ain't  said  nothing,  squire,  about  calling  a  man  a 
liar." 

"Well,"  said  Squire  Miller,  "that's  what  we  call  a  mute 
point.  I  heard  the  affirmative  and  negative  argued  once  by 
Lawyer  Ketchum  and  Lawyer  Tippit.  Lawyer  Tippit  was  the 
affirmative,  and  Lawyer  Ketchum  the  negative.  Lawyer  Tip- 
pit's  principle  was  in  mcdio  pessimus  ibis,  while  Lawyer  Ketchum 
held  qui  fadt  per  alien  facti  per  se.  They,  therefore,  couldn't 
agree,  they  were  so  wide  apart,  you  see.  So  they  separated 
without  either  giving  up,  though  I  think  Lawyer  Tippit  had  a 
little  the  best  of  the  argument." 

"  Lawyer  Tippit  knows  a  thing  or  two,"  said  the  fisherman, 
in  a  low  tone. 

Here  Squire  Miller  handed  to  Mr.  Jenkins  twelve  and  a  half 
cents,  for  the  four  glasses  of  Jamaica  he  had  drank,  a  portion 
of  which  some  way  or  other  seemed  to  have  got  into  his  last 
speech,  and  took  his  leave. 

He  had  hardly  left  the  store  when  who  should  come  in  but 
Constable  Basset,  bearing  in  his  hand  a  black  staff,  "  having  a 
head  with  the  arms  of  the  State  thereon,"  the  badge  of  his 
office,  as  provided  by  law,  and  which  he  was  required  to  carry 
"  upon  proper  occasions."  Some  such  occasion  had,  in  the  judg 
ment  of  the  constable,  evidently  arisen,  else  it  would  not  now  be 
forthcoming. 

He  was  a  bullet-headed,  carroty-haired  little  fellow,  with  a 
snub  nose  and  eyes  so  diminutive  and  deeply  sunken,  that  but 
for  the  sparks  of  light  they  emitted,  they  would  have  been 


118  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

undiscernible.  The  expression  of  his  face  was  like  that  of  a 
wiry  terrier,  being  derived  partly  from  his  occupation,  which,  in 
his  opinion,  required  him  to  be  as  vigilant  in  spying  out  offenders 
as  the  aforesaid  peppery  animal,  in  scenting  vermin,  and  being 
partly  the  gift  of  nature.  But  though  the  person  of  Basset  was 
small,  such  was  not  his  opinion  of  himself.  That  was  in  an 
inverse  ratio  to  his  size,  and  at  once  the  source  of  his  highest 
joys,  and,  sooth  to  say,  of  an  occasional  mortification.  But 
the  former  greatly  preponderated,  and,  on  the  whole,  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  a  benevolent  mind  to  look  at  him,  if  for  no  other 
reason  than  to  consider  how  much  enjoyment  there  may  be  in 
ignorance. 

As  soon  as  Gladding  set  his  eyes  on  the  constable,  he  hailed 
him  : 

"  Here,  Basset/'  he  cried,  "  what  are  you  going  to  do  this 
morning  with  that  are  stick  ?" 

The  constable  did  not  much  relish  hearing  the  badge  of  an 
office  which  he  esteemed  one  of  the  most  important  in  the  State 
thus  lightly  spoken  of  and  degraded  to  a  common  stick  ;  he, 
therefore,  replied  somewhat  shortly — * 

"  I  guess,  Mr.  Gladding,  you  don't  see  the  head  of  my  staff, 
do  ye  ?" 

"  Don't  I  ?"  said  Gladding.  "  I  know  old  Authority-by-the- 
State-of-Connecticut  a  mile  off,  without  seeing  his  head,  I  rather 
think.  But  what  are  you  up  to  now  ?" 

Basset,  who,  though  no  Solomon,  had  too  much  wit  to  admit 
every  one  into  his  confidence,  answered  : 

"0,  nothing  ;  I  was  only  looking  for  Squire  Miller." 

"  Why,"  said  Gladding,  "  he  only  left  the  store  a  minute  ago. 
I  say  Basset,  you  got  a  warrant  agin  old  Holden  ?" 

"  Why,"  said  Basset,  "  what  makes  you  ask  ?" 

"Because,"  replied  Gladding,  mischievously,  who  strongly 
suspecting  an  intention  to  arrest  Holden,  and  knowing  the  con- 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  119 

stable's  cowardice,  was  determined  to  play  upon  his  fears,  "  I 
shouldn't  like  to  be  in  your  skin  when  you  go  for  to  take 
him." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  the  man  what  would  dare  to  resist  when  I 
showed  him  my  authority,"  said  the  constable.  "I  guess  I'd 
make  him  cry  copeevy  in  less  than  no  time." 

"  Well,"  said  Gladding,  who  all  this  while  had  been  leisurely 
whittling  a  bit  of  white  pine,  "  well,  Basset,  you  know  your  own 
business  best,  and  I'm  not  a  man  to  interfere.  My  principle  is, 
let  every  man  skin  his  own  skunks.  You  haint  no  wife  nor 
children,  have  you  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Basset.     "  What  makes  you  ask  ?" 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  I  always  think  it  judgmatical, 
you  see,  to  choose  a  man  for  constable  who  haint  got  no  family ; 
'cause,  if  any  accident  should  happen,  'twouldn't  be  of  so  much 
consequence." 

"  I  don't  catch  your  meaning  clear,"  said  Basset. 

"  You'll  catch  it  clear  enough,  I  guess,"  answered  Gladding, 
"  if  Holden  gits  hold  o'  ye." 

"Now,  Tom  Gladding,  you  needn't  think  you're  going  to 
frighten  me"  cried  Basset,  on  whom  the  charm  was  beginning  to 
work. 

"  I  never  had  sich  an  idea,"  said  Tom.  "  But  folks  does  say 
he's  a  desperate  fighting  character.  Did  you  never  hear  tell  of 
Kidd  the  pirate,  and  his  treasures,  ever  so  much  gold  and  silver, 
and  rings  and  watches,  and  all  sorts  o'  trinkets  and  notions, 
buried  somewhere  along  shore,  or  perhaps  on  the  old  fellow's 
island  ?  Folks  does  say  that  when  it  was  kivered,  two  men  was 
murdered  on  the  spot,  so  that  their  sperits  should  watch  it,  and 
hender  other  folks  from  gitting  on't.  But  them  may  be  all  lies. 
I  beard  tell,  too,"  he  added,  bending  down  towards  the  consta 
ble,  and  speaking  in  a  low,  confidential  tone,  as  if  he  wished  to 
be  overheard  by  no  one,  "that  Holden 's  Kidd  himself;  but  I 


120  T  H  E      L  0  S  T      H  U  N  T  K  K  . 

don't  believe  a  word  on't.     I  tell  you  this  as  a  friend  of  your'n, 
and  I  advise  you  to  be  prudent.'7 

Poor  Basset  left  the  shop,  with  a  much  less  confident  air  than 
that  with  which  he  had  entered  it.  The  truth  is,  he  had  in  his 
pocket,  all  the  while,  a  warrant  issued  by  Squire  Miller  to  arrest 
Holden,  which  he  now  most  heartily  wished  he  had  never  burnt 
his  fingers  with.  He  had  heard  before,  the  strange  stories  in 
circulation  about  the  Solitary,  but  had  listened  to  them  with 
only  a  vague  feeling  of  curiosity,  without  any  personal  interest 
therein,  so  that  no  .impression  of  any  consequence  had  been 
made  upon  his  mind.  But  now  the'  case  was  different.  The 
matter  was  brought  home  to  his  own  bosom.  Here  was  he, 
Constable  Basset,  required  and  commanded,  "by  authority  of 
the  State  of  Connecticut,"  to  arrest  a  man  of  the  most  violent 
character,  "for,"  said  Basset  to  himself,  "he  must  be  a  danger 
ous  fellow,  else  how  would  he  venture  to  insult  a  whole  confer 
ence  ?  Tom  Gladding's  more'n  half  right,  and  I  must  look 
sharp."  Gladly  would  he  have  abandoned  the  whole  business, 
notwithstanding  his  cupidity  was  not  a  little  excited  by  the  fees, 
but  he  doubted  whether  the  sheriff,  his  deputy,  or  any  other 
constable  would  execute  the  warrant  in  his  stead  ;  nor  did  any 
plausible  excuse  present  itself  to  account  for  transferring  it  to 
other  h$jyls.  Thus  musing,  with  fear  and  avarice  contending  in 
his  breast,  he  walked  up  the  street.  But  it  may  be  necessary  to 
tell  how  Basset  got  into  the  dilemma,  and,  in  order  to  do  so,  we 
must  retrace  our  steps. 

The  interruption  at  the  conference  had  not  a  little  offended 
Davenport.  A  pompous  and  conceited  man,  any  slight  to  him 
self,  any  failure  to  accord  a  deference  he  considered  his  due,  he 
felt  sensibly  as  an  injury;  much  more,  then,  an  open  defiance  and 
direct  attack.  That  Holden  or  any  one  should  have  the  hardi 
hood,  before  an  assemblage  of  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  to 
interrupt  him  and  load  him  with  reproaches,  wounded  his  self 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  121 

love  to  the  quick,  and  he  fancied  it  would  affect  his  reputation 
and  influence  in  the  community  were  the  offence  to  be  passed 
over  without  notice.  He  therefore  resolved  that  something 
should  be  done  to  punish  the  offender,  though  unwilling  to 
appear  himself  in  the  matter,  as  that  might  expose  his  motives  ; 
and  all  the  way  home,  his  mind  was  engrossed  with  schemes  to 
accomplish  his  purpose.  It  was  little  attention,  then,  he  be 
stowed  upon  the  "good  gracious"  and  "massy  on  us"  of  his 
better  half,  as,  with  indignation  becoming  the  provocation,  she 
kept  herself  warm,  and  shortened  the  way.  But,  notwithstand 
ing,  he  was  forced  to  hear  them,  and  they  affected  him  like  so 
many  little  stings  to  urge  him  to  revenge.  So  excited  were  his 
feelings,  that  it  was  some  time  before  he  fell  asleep  that  night, 
long  after  notes  other  than  those  of  music  had  announced  the 
passage  of  Mrs.  Davenport  to  a  land  of  forgetfulness,  though 
not  before  her  husband  had  matured  a  plan  for  the  morrow. 

Accordingly,  after  breakfast,  Davenport  walked  round  to  the 
office  of  Mr.  Ketchum.  Ketchum  was  a  young  man,  who,  but  a 
short  time  before,  had,  in  the  fortunate  town  of  Hillsdale,  hung 
out  his  professional  sign,  or  shingle,  as  people  generally  called  it, 
whereon,  in  gilt  letters,  were  emblazoned  his  name  and  the  titles 
of  "  Attorney  and  Counsellor  at  Law,"  whereby  the  public  were 
given  to  understand  that  the  owner  of  the  aforesaid  name  and 
titles  was  prepared  with  pen  or  tongue,  or  both,  to  vindicate, 
a  outrance,  the  rights  of  all  who  were  able  and  willing  to  pay 
three  dollars  for  an  argument  before  a  Justice  Court,  and  in 
proportion  before  the  higher  tribunals.  He  was  a  stirring,  push 
ing  fellow,  whose  business,  however,  was  as  yet  quite  limited, 
and  to  whom,  for  that  reason,  a  new  case  was  a  bonne  louche  on 
which  he  sprung  with  the  avidity  of  a  trout. 

This  gentleman  Davenport  found  apparently  lost  in  the  study 
of  a  russet  sheep-skin  covered  book.  A  few  other  books,  bound 
in  like  manner,  were  lying  on  the  table,  with  pens  and  loose 

6 


122  THE      LOST   HUNTER. 

paper  and  an  ink-stand,  among  which  were  mingled  files  of 
papers  purporting  to  be  writs  and  deeds.  Against  the  walls 
were  two  or  three  shelves  containing  some  dingy-looking  books 
having  a  family  likeness  to  the  former. 

After  the  usual  compliments,  Davenport  made  known  his 
business.  "  A  scandal,"  he  said,  "  had  been  occasioned  by  the 
conduct  of  Holden,  and  a  great  injury  inflicted  on  the  cause  of 
religion.  It  was  for  that  reason,"  he  intimated,  "  and  not  from 
any  private  feeling  -he  wanted  him  brought  to  justice.  Some 
people  think  him  a  little  touched,"  he  said,  "  though  I  don't 
believe  it,  and  if  it  was  only  iny  own  case  I  should  overlook  his 
insults,  for  it  is  the  part  of  a  Christian  to  suffer  wrong  without 
complaining,  but  there's  others  to  be  thought  of,  and  I'd  sooner 
cut  off  my  right  hand  than  not  do  my  duty.  So,  squire,"  he 
concluded,  "  we  must  see  if  we  can't  learn  him  reason,  and  stop 
his  disturbing  the  worship  of  God." 

"  There  is  no  difficulty  about  that,  Squire  Davenport,"  said 
Ketchum,  who  was  acquainted  with  the  particulars  of  the 
occurrence  of  the  night  previous,  before  the  arrival  of  his  client, 
having  heard  them  discussed  over  breakfast  at  his  boarding- 
house.  "  You  have  the  plainest  case  in  the  world.  We'll  soon 
put  him  through  a  course  of  sprouts." 

"  How  do  you  think  we  had  better  proceed  ?"  said  Daven 
port. 

"  Why,"  replied  the  other,  opening  the  Statute  Book,  "  you 
have  at  least  two  causes  of  action  ;  you  can  bring  a  civil  action 
for  the  slander,  and  also  proceed  against  him  on  the  part  of  the 
State  for  the  interruption  of  the  meeting." 

"  I  don't  care  about  suing  him  on  my  own  account,"  said  the 
client,  who,  perhaps,  not  reposing  unlimited  confidence  in  the 
young  man's  knowledge  of  law,  and  doubting  the  success  of  a 
civil  action,  had  visions  of  possible  costs  he  might  be  obliged  to 
pay  floating  before  his  imagination.  Besides,  Davenport  was  a 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  123 

shrewd  fellow  who  had  been  "in  the  law  "  before  ;  and  expe 
rience  taught  him  how  to  make  allowance  for  the  natural  anxiety 
of  a  new  practitioner  to  obtain  business.  "  No,  I  have  no  feeling 
about  it  myself,"  said  Davenport,  "  and  it  is  my  opinion  we  had 
better  take  him  on  the  part  of  the  State." 

"It  is  just  as  well,"  said  the  attorney  ;  "one  suit  will  not 
interfere  with  the  other.  We  can  first  proceed  against  him 
criminally,  and  afterwards  bring  an  action  for  damages." 

"  Well,  well,'7  said  Davenport,  "now  about  the  prosecution." 

"  Then,"  said  Ketchum,  opening  the  Statute  Book  at  the  title 
"  Meetings,"  after  first  running  though  the  index  ;  "  we  can  take 
him  under  the  Act  on  the  492d  page,  entitled,  '  An  Act  for 
perserving  due  order  in  town  meetings,  society  meetings,  and  in 
the  meetings  of  other  communities,  and  for  preventing  tumults 
therein,' "  and  he  read  the  act  aloud. 

"  I  don't  exactly  like  that,"  observed  Davenport.  "  The  fine, 
in  the  first  place,  is  only  eighty-four  cents,  except  the  case  is 
aggravated,  when  it  is  a  binding  over,  and  then  the  County  Court 
cannot  go  over  thirty-four  dollars  fine.  There's  no  imprisonment 
and  Tom  Pownal  or  Armstrong  would  go  bail,  and  pay  the  fine 
too,  if  it  comes  to  that ;  so  there  would  be  nothing  gained  by 
the  operation." 

"  Let  us  see  if  we  cannot  find  something  else,"  said  Ketchum, 
"to  suit  your  taste  better.  I  think  (for  he  now  perfectly 
understood  the  temper  of  his  client,  and  read  the  vindictive  pur 
pose  of  his  soul,  and,  alas  !  was  willing  to  descend  to  the  mean 
ness  of  ministering  to  its  gratification,)  I  think  it  would  be  a 
reproach  to  the  law  if  such  a  high-handed  outrage  should  be 
permitted  to  pass  unpunished."  He  again  referred  to  the  index 
and  apparently  finding  what  he  wanted  turned  the  leaves  till  he 
came  to  the  title,  "Workhouses."  "Here,"  cried  he,  "at  the 
6.88th  page,  in  the  seventh  section,  we  have  got  him  ;"  and  he 
read  from  the  Statutes  a  provision,  authorizing  and  empowering 


124  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

an  associate  or  Justice  of  the  Peace  to  send  "  '  all  rogues,  vaga 
bonds,  sturdy  beggars,  and  other  lewd,  idle,  dissolute,  profane 
and  disorderly  persons  that  have  no  settlement  in  this  State,  to 
.such  workhouses,  and  order  them  to  be  kept  to  hard  labor '  &c  ; 
and  here  on  the  next  page,  '  also  such  as  are  guilty  of  reviling 
and  profane  speaking.'" 

"  That  last  will  do,  if  the  law  will  hold  him,"  said  Davenport. 

"  Leave  that  to  me/'  said  Ketchum.  "  That  section  will  hold 
water  or  nothing  will.  Give  me  the  names  of  your  witnesses, 
and  we  will  set  the  mill  a  grinding.  I  suppose,"  he  added,  care 
lessly,  "  you  have  no  objection  to  bringing  the  case  before 
Squire  Miller  ?" 

"Oh,  none  in  the  world,"  answered  the  other,  who  knew 
perfectly  well  the  influence  he  exercised  over  the  Justice.  "  But 
you  haven't  said  a  word  about  the  Grand  Juror  to  make  the 
complaint." 

"  That  will  be  all  straight,"  replied  Ketchum.  "  Two  Grand 
Jurors  I  know  were  at  the  meeting,  either  of  whom  will  answer 
our  purpose.  Trust  that  to  me,  and  I  will  attend  to  it." 

Hereupon,  Davenport  mentioned  the  names  of  the  witnesses 
he  wished  subpoened.  "And  now,  Squire,"  he  added,  "that 
this  matter  is  concluded  between  us,  how  comes  on  my  case 
with  Fanning  ?" 

Ketchum  felt  some  surprise  at  the  question,  although  his 
countenance  expressed  none,  for  it  was  only  a  short  time  since 
he  had  gone  over  the  whole  subject  with  his  client,  and  the  plan 
of  operations  had  been  agreed  on  between  them.  He  under 
stood,  however,  the  character  of  Davenport  too  well  not  to 
know  that  he  had  a  reason  of  his  own  for  asking,  and  not 
doubting  it  would  come  out  in  the  course  of  the  conversation, 
he  replied  very  composedly  that  it  would  probably  be  reached 
the  next  term. 

Davenport  went  on  for  awhile,  talking  of  his  case,  Ketchum 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  125 

all  the  time  wondering  at  his  drift,  until,  having  concluded  what 
it  pleased  him  to  say,  he  rose  to  take  leave.  After  bidding 
good  morning  by  way  of  farewell,  he  walked  to  the  door,  when 
suddenly  turning,  as  if  the  thought  had  just  struck  him,  he 
observed — "  By  the  way,  if  anybody  should  happen  to  notice 
that  I  had  called  on  you,  I  have  no  objections  to  your  saying 
I  had  a  talk  with  you  about  that  case  of  Fanning's." 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed,  Ketchum  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  and  indulged  in  a  low  sarcastic  laugh.  "  The  old  sinner," 
he  said,  aloud  ;  "  he  is  a  cute  one  ;  sharp  as  a  pin,  but  needles 
are  sharper.  What  a  knack  he  has  of  whipping  the  devil  round 
the  stump  1  To  look  at  that  man  you  would  suppose  he  was 
too  good  for  preaching.  And  he  flatters  himself  he  is  imposing 
on  me  1  He  must  get  up  earlier  for  that.  It  is  my  opinion  his 
only  chance  when  his  turn  comes  will  be  in  cheating  his  Satanic 
Majesty.  Well,  practice  makes  perfect,  and  he  has  enough  of 
it.  I  do  declare,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  as  if  scruples  of  con 
science  were  arising  in  his  mind,  "  I  am  almost  sorry  I  under 
took  this  business.  But  all  trades  must  live." 

Consoling  himself  with  this  reflection,  Ketchum  started  to 
hunt  up  the  grand-juror.  He  found  no  difficulty  in  inducing 
him  to  make  complaint  to  Justice  Miller,  having  first  satisfied 
him  that  an  offence  had  been  committed  which  the  law  com 
pelled  him  to  notice  officially. 

Squire  Miller,  however,  seemed  disposed,  at  first,  to  take  a 
different  view  of  the  subject.  He  said  he  had  known  Holden 
a  good  many  years,  and  never  heard  harm  of  him  except  that 
he  was  a  little  flighty  sometimes  ;  but  if  the  grand-juror  insisted, 
of  course  he  would  issue  the  warrant. 

The  minister  of  the  law  must  have  been  inexorable,  for  the 
complaint  was  made,  aad  the  warrant  signed  in  due  form  and 
delivered  to  Basset  to  be  executed. 


126  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

Esculua.— Come  hither  to  me,  master  Elbow ;  come  hither,  master  constable.     How 
long  have  you  been  in  this  place  of  constable  ? 

MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 

WE  have  seen  that  when  the  constable  left  the  shop  he  felt 
some  anxiety  about  the  proper  course  to  be  pursued.  On  the 
one  hand  were  his  duty  and  avarice,  on  the  other  his  fears. 
After  some  meditation  he  finally  effected  a  compromise  between 
them,  by  adopting  the  resolution  to  wait  until  the  formidable 
Holden  should  make  his  appearance  again  in  the  village,  where, 
he  thought  he  would  be  less  likely,  in  open  day,  and  surrounded 
by  others,  to  resist,  or,  if  he  did,  the  assistance  of  the  bystand 
ers  might  be  commanded. 

Two  or- three  days  passed  in  this  manner,  none,  excepting  the 
five  persons  above-mentioned,  having  any  knowledge  of  the 
issuing  of  the  warrant.  The  excitement  had  died  away,  and  the 
little  community  supposed  no  notice  would  be  taken  of  the 
occurrence,  and,  for  the  most  part,  were  disposed  that  none 
should  be.  Meanwhile,  Basset,  like  a  spider  in  the  centre  of  his 
web,  watched  for  his  victim,  ready  to  pounce  upon  him,  as  soon 
as  the  propitious  moment  should  arrive.  It  is  curious  how  the 
desire  to  capture  Holden  increased  with  delay.  At  first,  and  in 
the  prospect  of  immediate  danger,  the  business  was  far  from 
being  relished,  but  as  time  slipped  along,  and  his  mind  became 
familiarized  to  its  contemplation,  it  began  to  assume  something 
of  even  a  tempting  character.  He  began  to  fancy  that  if  he 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  127 

could  secure  the  Recluse,  he  should  achieve  for  himself  a  reputa 
tion  for  courage,  which  he  was  far,  at  present,  from  possessing. 
Yet,  still  he  desired  to  discharge  his  commission  in  the  most 
prudent  manner. 

But  Holden  did  not  appear.  Was  it  possible  he  could  have 
obtained  information  of  the  threatened  danger,  and  was  keeping 
himself  concealed  ?  At  the  thought,  Basset  stood  two  inches 
higher  ;  his  courage  mounted  rapidly,  and  the  terrible  pirate 
dwindled  into  a  submissive  culprit. 

Ketchum,  meanwhile,  began  to  be  importunate.  He  had 
become  impatient  at  waiting,  and  demanded  of  the  constable  the 
reason  of  the  delay.  The  latter,  unwilling  to  confess  the  true 
cause,  put  him  off  with  such  excuses  as  his  ingenuity  suggested, 
until  he  had  exhausted  his  stock,  and  was  obliged  to  apply  him 
self  to  the  discharge  of  his  duty.  He,  therefore,  made  up  his 
mind  to  face  the  danger,  but  not  to  monopolize  the  glory  of  the 
achievement.  He  dared  not  go  alone,  and  accordingly  looked 
round  for  somebody  to  assist  him  in  the  perilous  enterprise. 
Now,  the  veteran  Primus,  by  virtue  of  his  exploits  in  the  Revo 
lutionary  War,  and  the  loss  of  one  of  his  legs  on  the  field  of 
battle,  enjoyed  a  high  reputation  for  bravery.  Backed  by  the 
old  warrior,  or  rather  led  by  him,  for  Basset  meant  to  yield  him 
the  post  of  honor,  the  constable  thought  he  should  stand  a  much 
greater  chance  of  success.  He  determined,  therefore,  -to  apply 
to  Primus,  secure  his  services,  and  take  counsel  with  him  on  the 
best  mode  to  apprehend  Holden.  With  this  view,  he  betook 
himself  to  the  bachelor  quarters  of  the  black — a  hovel  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  village,  where  we  find  him  at  this  present 
moment. 

"  I  hab  some  interjection,  Missa  Basset,"  said  Primus,  evi 
dently  in  reply  to  a  proposition  of  the  constable.    "  Suppose  you 
come  to  ketch  me,  how  I  like  to  hab  somebody  help  you  ?" 
"No  danger  of  that,  Prime,"  said  Basset;   "you  are  too 


128  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

clever  a  fellow  for  me  to  go  with  a  warrant  after  ;  and  if  it  was 
your  case,  I  should  more  likely  give  you  a  squint  of  what  was 
going  on,  than  be  plotting  how  to  git  hold  on  ye.  You  don't 
know  your  friends,  Prime." 

"  Dey  say  'tis  a  wise  child  dat  know  his  own  fader,7'  answered 
Primus.  "Now,  if  a  child  dat  see  his  fader  ebery  day,  and 
been  brung  up  in  de  same  house,  not  know  him,  how  is  it  possi 
ble  dat  I  know  you,  Missa  Basset,  who  neber  before  do  me  de 
honor  ob  a  visit  ?" 

"  Why,"  said  the  constable,  who  hardly  knew  what  reply  to 
make,  "  you  never  come  to  see  me,  Prime." 

"Dat  is  de  trute,"  said  Primus,  "and  dat  look  as  do  you  and 
me  is  no  great  friends,  arter  all.  But,"  added  he,  observing  the 
other's  embarrassment,  "  dat  is  needer  here  nor  dere.  I  always 
suspect  you  bery  much,  sar,  and  is  willing  to  do  anyting  to 
obleege  you.  Tell  us,  now,  'xactly,  what  you  want  me  to 
do." 

"  Why,  you  see,  I  want  somebody  to  go  along  with  me  to  be 
there  when  I  take  him,  that's  all.  The  island's  three  or  four 
miles  off,  and  I  shall  want  you  to  help  row  the  boat." 

"0,  if  dat  is  all,  I  is  'greeable,"  exclaimed  Primus.  "When 
you  tink  o'  going,  Missa  Basset  ?" 

"  I  ain't  just  made  up  my  mind  on  that  pint,  and  that's  one 
thing  I  want  to  talk  about.  When  will  he  be  most  likely  to  be 
at  home  ?  What  do  you  think  ?  Had  we  better  go  in  the 
morning,  or  wait  till  afternoon." 

"  Dat  inquire  some  deflexurn.  Let  me  see  :  I  don't  know 
about  de  day,  at  all.  If  he  see  you  coming,  he  make  off,  pro- 
bumbly,  and  den  de  job  is  lost,  and  de  fire  is  in  de  fat.  De 
night  is  de  best  time,  I  guess,  to  ketch  dis  kind  ob  fish." 

But  this  opinion  did  not  suit  the  notions  of  the  constable. 

" It  won't  be  half  so  pleasant,"  he  said.  "It's  plaguy  cold 
at  night ;  and  if  it  keeps  on  at  this  rate,  the  river  will  soon 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  129 

freeze  up.  I  expect  we  can  git  him  easier,  too,  in  the  day-time 
than  at  night.'7 

For  some  reason  Primus  seemed  to  entertain  a  decidedly  con 
trary  opinion. 

"  You  suspec',"  cried  he,  "  de  ole  man  let  you  put  you  hand 
an  him  as  easy  as  Frisky  wink  (looking  at  a  little  mongrel,  that 
at  the  mention  of  his  name  jumped  into  his  master's  lap). 
Ketch  a  weasel  asleep  !  De  old  man  beard  too  long  for  dat." 

"Why,  I  can't  see,"  said  Basset,  "what  objections  you  can 
have  if  I  take  the  risk.  You  can't  deny  it's  a  great  deal  plea- 
santer  in  the  day  time  than  to  go  along  shivering  at  night,  and, 
perhaps,  catch  a  tarnation  cold.  So,  Prime,  what  say  to  going 
down  to-morrow  in  the  forenoon  or  afternoon,  I  don't  care  much 
which  ?  It's  all  one  to  me." 

11  It's  all  no  use,"  persisted  Primus.  "  You  just  hab  to  pay 
for  de  boat  and  my  sarvices,  and  git  noting.  Dat  is  what  I 
call  a  berry  bad  spec,  Miss  a  Basset." 

"Well,  what's  that  to  you,  I  tell  you  ?  If  I  choose  to  run 
the  risk,  that's  enough,  and  you  ought  to  be  satisied.  You  git 
your  pay,  and  what  more  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Dere  is  someting  more  I  want,"  exclaimed  the  General,  "  I 
want  de  satisfacshum  ob  victory.  I  want  de  satisfacshum  here/'7 
he  repeated,  laying  his  hand  on  his  breast.  "  Do  you  tink,  sar, 
dat  a  genlmu,  dat  fight  in  de  Evolutionary  war,  and  gib  one 
leg,  dat  you  may  stand  on  two  free  leg,  hab  no  feeling  ob 
honor  ?  Beside,  dis  old  soger  don't  want  no  bread  he  don't 
arn." 

"  Well,  I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you,  that  if  we  don't  catch 
Holden,  you  shan't  have  anything.  That  horse  is  soon 
curried." 

"Ah,  dat  won't  do.  My  time  is  precious,  and  de  hire  is 
wordy  ob  de  laborer.  No,  Missa  Basset,  if  you  want  to  go  in 
de  day  time,  you  can  go.  Dere  is  nobody  will  hender  you. 


130  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

But  dis  child  you  will  please  'scuse.  Beside,  dere  is  anoder 
reason  I  say  noting  about,  'cause  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you 
feelings." 

"What's  that?'1  said  Basset.  "Don't  be  afeared  ;  spit  it 
out." 

"  Well,  seeing  as  how  you  is  so  pressing,  you  see,  I  link 
sometiug  ob  my  'spectability." 

"  Your  what  ?"  exclaimed  the  constable,  utterly  at  a  loss  to 
imagine  the  meaning  of  the  other. 

"My  'spectability,"  repeated  Primus,  gravely.  "You  see, 
when  I  was  a  young  man,  I  'sociate  wid  de  best  company  in  de 
country.  I  'members  de  time  when  General  Wayne  (dey  called 
him  Mad  Antony,  'cause  he  fight  so  like  de  dibble)  say  afore  de 
whole  army,  dat  haansome  fellow — meaning  me — look  like 
anoder  Anibal  (Anibal,  I  guess,  was  a  French  General).  Ah," 
sighed  Primus,  "  dey  made  more  'count  ob  colored  pussons  den, 
dan  dey  does  now." 

"  What  has  all  this  to  do  with  your  respectability  ?"  inquired 
Basset,  who  began  to  be  a  little  impatient. 

"  I  come  to  dat  at  de  end  ob  de  roll  call,"  responded  Primus. 
"  Do  you  tink  it  bery  'spectable  now,  for  a  man  who,  in  his 
younger  day,  fight  for  liberty,  to  go  for  to  take  it  away  in  his 
old  age  from  anoder  man  ?" 

•'  But  just  consider,"  said  Basset,  whose  cue  was  flattery  and 
conciliation,  "  Holden  went  agin  the  very  laws  you  made." 

"I  make  de  law,  Missa  Basset?"  roared  Primus;  "haw! 
haw  !  haw  !  I  make  de  law,  haw  !  haw  !  haw  1  does  you  want 
to  kill  me  ?  0  dear  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Basset,  stoutly,  "  and  I  can  prove  it.  Now  say, 
if  the  Americans  didn't  make  their  own  laws,  wouldn't  the 
British  make  'em  for  'em  ?  And  who  was  it  drove  the  British 
out,  and  give  us  a  chance  to  make  our  own  laws,  eh  ?" 

"  Pity  you  isn't  a  lawyer,"  said  Primus,  suddenly  abandoning 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  131 

his  mirth  at  the  other's  explanation  ;  "  dere  is  a  great  deal  in 
what  you  say  ;  de  white  men  owes  a  big  debt  to  us  colored 
pussons.  Dat  is  a  fust  rate  reason  why  I  should  want  to  see  de 
law  execute,  but  not  for  me-  to  go  myself  in  particular,  when, 
perhaps,  de  ole  man  point  his  rifle  at  me,  and  tell  me  to  clear 
out." 

"  Why,  you  don't  think  he'll  resist  ?"  cried  the  constable, 
somewhat  startled,  feeling  the  apprehensions  revive  which  Tom 
Gladding  had  occasioned,  but  which  the  passage  of  a  few  days 
had  almost  lulled  asleep. 

"'Tis  bery  hard  to  tell  what  a  man  do  when  he  git  in  a  cor 
ner,"  said  Primus,  shaking  his  head,  and  fastening  his  eyes  on 
the  constable's  face,  "  but,  if  you  want  to  know  my  'pinion,  it  is 
just  dis — if  Missa  Holden  know  what  you  up  to,  he  make  day 
light  shine  trough  you,  in  less  dan  no  time,  rader  dan  be 
took." 

"  Poh  ?"  exclaimed  Basset,  affecting  a  courage  he  was  far 
from  feeling,  "you'r  skeary,  Prime.  So,  in  your  judgment, 
it's  safer  to  go  by  night  ;  is  it  ?" 

"My  'pinion  is  made  up  on  all  de  pints,"  said  Primus,  reso 
lutely,  and  bringing  all  his  batteries  to  bear.  "  Dis  case  hab 
two  hinge  ;  de  fast  is  de  'spectability,  and  de  second  de  safety. 
Now,  if  any  man  suspect  me  to  go  on  work  ob  dis  a  kind  in  de 
day-time,  when  ebery  body  see  me  in  you  company,  he  as  much 
mistake  as  when  he  kiss  his  granny  for  a  gal.  De  night  is  de 
proper  time  for  sich  a  dark  business,  and  it  suit  me  better  if  I 
'scuse  altogeder  from  it.  But  I  wish  to  'bleege  you,  Missa 
Basset.  Now,  de  second  hinge  is  de  safety,  and  it  'stonish  me 
dat  an  onderstancling  man,  and  a  man  ob  experunce  and  laming 
like  you,  Missa  Basset,  should  dream  o'  going  in  de  day-time. 
Dere  stand  old  Holden  proburnbly  wid  his  rifle  in  de  window, 
and  all  he  hab  to  do,  he  see  so  plain,  is  to  pull  de  trigger,  and 
den  where  is  you,  Missa  Basset  ?  Or,  perhaps,"  he  added, 


132  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

laughing,  "'stead  ob  shooting  at  you,  he  shoot  at  me,  and  dat 
would  be  bery  onpleasant.  In  de  day-time,  a  colored  pusson 
make  a  better  mark  dan  a  white  man  ;  but  in  de  night  we  has 
de  advantage.  Haw  !  Haw  I" 

This  was  a  view  of  things  that  did  not  please  the  constable  at 
all,  and  the  mirth  of  the  negro  appeared  excessively  ill-timed. 
He,  therefore,  said  : 

"Don't  talk  so,  Prime  ;  it's  dreadful  to  hear  you.  Well,  if 
you're  afraid,  say  so,  and  done  with —  " 

"  Me,  'fraiti,"  exclaimed  Primus,  "  me  dat  is  as  'customed  to 
de  bullets  as  de  roof  to  de  rain  !  No,  sar,  you  is  better 
'quainted  wid  de  genlrnen  dat  is  'fraid  dan  dis  child." 

"  Don't  git  mad  though,"  said  Basset,  in  whose  mind  one 
apprehension  drove  out  another,  and  who  began  to  fear  he 
might  lose  altogether  his  new  ally.  "  Everybody  knows 
you're  as  brave  as  Julius  Ca3sar,  Prime." 

"  Please,  sar,  not  to  repair  me  to  no  Caesar,"  exclaimed  the 
indignant  General.  "  De  Caesars  ob  my  'quaintance  was  nebber 
no  great  shakes.  I  hab  a  better  name  dan  dat.  My  name  is 
Primus — dat  mean,  in  Latin,  fust — so  I  hear  genlmn  say,  and 
Ransome,  and  de  meaning  ob  dat  is,  dat  in  de  glorious  Reso 
lution  I  run  some  arter  de  British  (dough  de  foolish  doctor 
abuse  me,  and  say  dey  give  me  de  name  'cause  I  run  away),  and 
putting  bote  togedder  dey  makes  a  name  any  genlmn  may  be 
proud  ob.  But,  Missa  Basset,  what  you  going  to  gib  me  for 
dis  job  ?" 

"  Why,  a  quarter '11  be  good  wages,  I  guess." 

"  A  quarter  ob  a  dollar  !  Do  you  s'pose  I  dispose  myself  to 
ketch  cold  on  de  ribber,  and  die  afore  my  time,  and  arter  dat  to 
be  shoot  at,  like  a  duck,  for  a  quarter  ?  I  don't  'list  on  no  such 
tarms." 

"We'll  say  a  half.  I'm  inclined  to  be  liberal,  but  I  shall 
expect  you  to  be  lively,  Prime." 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  J33 

"  Dat  is  too  little,"  grumbled  Primus.  "  And  who  else  you 
got  to  help  you  ?" 

"  Why,  hain't  two  enough  ?  I  might  as  well  give  up  the  job 
at  once,  and  done  with  it,  if  I'm  to  pay  out  all  the  fees." 

"  One  more  will  make  all  sure,"  said  Primus,  who,  prudent 
general  that  he  was,  thought  no  odds  could  be  too  great  against 
an  enemy.  "  S'pose  I  speak  to  Missa  Gladding  to  insist  ?" 

"  Tom  Gladding  be  hung.     I  won't  give  him  a  cent." 

"  But,"  said  Primus,  who  seemed  determined  to  have  his  own 
way  in  everything,  "  you  no  interjection,  I  guess,  if  it  don't  cost 
you  noting." 

"  No,"  replied  Basset,  who  was  glad  enough  of  another  auxi 
liary,  provided  his  own  pocket  was  not  affected.  "  But,  mind  ye, 
I  don't  pay  him  a  red  cent." 

"  I  pay  him  myself,  out  ob  my  own  pass.  De  danger  won't  be 
so  much,  and  de  work  will  be  done  up  right,  sartin.  So,  atween 
genlrnn,  de  business  is  settle." 

They  parted  with  the  understanding  that  the  General  was  to 
see  Gladding  and  induce  him  to  take  part  in  the  enterprise,  and 
that  the  three  would  meet  at  a  certain  place  in  the  evening,  the 
constable  being  careful  to  repeat  that  he  couldn't  afford  more 
than  fifty  cents  for  any  assistance  that  might  be  rendered. 
Primus  accordingly  called  upon  Gladding,  and  the  arrangement 
must  have  been  satisfactory,  for  the  three  were  all  at  the  place 
of  rendezvous  at  the  appointed  hour. 


134  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


CHAPTER    XIII, 

"All  these  tales  told  in  that  dreamy  undertone  with  which  men  talk  in  the  dark,  the 
countenances  of  the  listeners  only  now  and  then  receiving  a  casual  gleam  from  the  glare 

of  a  pipe,  sunk  deep  in  the  mind  of  Ichabod." 

LEGEND  OP  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 

IT  was  on  the  village  wharf  that  the  coadjutors  met.  Basset, 
as  he  contemplated  the  martial  bearing  of  the  General  and  the 
burly  form  of  Gladding,  felt  comforted.  The  clouds  that  all  day 
long  had  lowered  above  his  mental  horizon  parted,  and  patches 
of  blue  sky  began  to  appear.  It  was  a  cause  of  special  gratula- 
tion  to  him,  which  he  realized  more  sensibly  in  the  darkness  than 
by  day,  that  assistance  so  important  as  Gladding's  had  been 
secured,  and  that  without  additional  expense.  He  was  confident 
now  of  an  easy  victory.  The  associates  jumped  into  the  boat, 
the  painter  was  cast  off,  the  constable,  as  principal,  took  the 
steersman's  seat,  and  Tom  and  Primus  disposed  themselves  to 
row. 

The  night  was  neither  clear  nor  dark,  or  rather  was  both  by 
fits  and  starts.  Light  fleecy  clouds  were  constantly  passing  over 
the  heavens,  now  gathering  densely  together  and  completely 
hiding  the  stars,  and  now  breaking  up  and  revealing  between 
the  rifts  their  shining  points.  A  low  wind  softly  moaned  through 
the  leafless  trees  on  the  banks  of  the  Severn,  sadly  chiming  in 
with  the  murmur  of  the  tide,  which  rose  quite  up  to  the  Falls  of 
the  Yaupaae.  In  the  indistinct  light,  just  enough  to  stimulate 
and  keep  in  active  play  the  imagination,  softening  away  all  those 
harshnesses  which  the  garish  brilliancy  of  day  discloses,  and 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  135 

inviting  the  mind  to  supply  with  its  own  creations  what  is  vague 
and  deficient,  the  village  presented  an  appearance  more  attrac 
tive,  if  possible,  than  by  day.  Along  the  margin  of  the  river, 
and  up  the  hill-sides,  the  lights  scattered  in  every  direction,  and 
rising  irregularly  one  above  another,  contended  successfully  with 
the  struggling  stars  to  light  the  way  of  the  adventurers ;  while 
a  low  sound,  the  faint  indication  of  life,  hardly  distinguishable 
from  other  noises,  rose  from  the  village,  for  it  was  yet  early  in 
the  night,  and  imparted  a  sense  of  security  by  the  consciousness 
of  human  propinquity.  But  gradually,  under  the  skillful  strokes 
of  the  oars,  the  sounds  became  fainter  and  fainter,  and  one  light 
after  another  disappeared  till,  at  a  turn  in  the  stream,  the  bold 
promontory  of  Okommakemesit  hid  the  town  from  view. 

A  feeling  of  loneliness  now,  in  spite  of  the  presence  of  his 
two  friends,  began  to  creep  over  the  constable.  So  long  as  the 
lights  had  been  visible,  he  felt  a  strength  derived  from  the 
vicinity  of  the  habitations  of  his  fellow-beings,  as  if,  were  any 
thing  untoward  to  happen,  assistance  was  close  at  hand  and 
ready  to  be  proffered,  but  now  he  might  die  a  thousand  deaths, 
and  none  be  the  wiser  for  his  wretched  end.  As  these  and 
other  thoughts  equally  dismal  chased  each  other  through  his 
mind,  the  silence  became  more  and  more  oppressive  (for  it  was 
only  now  and  then,  hitherto,  a  word  had  been  uttered),  and  it 
was  with  an  emotion  of  thankfulness  and  relief  he  heard  it 
broken  by  the  voice  of  Gladding. 

"  I  say,  Primus,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  where  you  are  ?" 

"  I  guess  I  does/7  answered  the  black,  speaking  from  between 
his  shut  teeth,  which  the  necessity  of  retaining  the  stump  of  a 
pipe  he  was  smoking  compelled  him  to  keep  tight  together,  "  I 
is  on  de  river  'joying  a  row  wid  two  white  genlmn." 

"  Any  fool  knows  that,"  said  Tom,  "  though  for  the  matter  of 
the  enjoyment,  there  might  be  two  words  about  that..  Some 
jugs  has  two  handles." 


136  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"  Well,  if  dat  doesn't  please  you,  I  all  in  a  shiver  wid  de  cold. 
My  wood  toe  is  almost  freeze." 

"  That's  a  plagaey  cnrus  thing,"  said  Tom.  "  You  know  Jim 
Hardy.  Well  I  hearn  him  say  he  can  feel  the  fingers  in  his 
hand  that  was  ground  off  in  the  mill,  just  as  much  as  in  tother. 
I  expect  your  experience  is  pretty  much  the  same." 

"  Dat's  a  fact/'  said,  Primus.  "  I  can  feel  de  foot  and  de 
toes  just  as  much  as  ebber,  only  de  leg  is  a  sort  o'  kind  o> 
shorter.  Now,  Missa  Gladding,  you  is  a  man  ob  gumption,  can 
you  splaiu  dat  ?" 

"  Sartin,"  said  Torn,  who  didn't  wish  to  appear  ignorant  in 
the  presence  of  the  negro;  "there's  no  great  difficulty  about 
that,  though  I  rather  think  it  takes  more  laming  than  you've 
got  to  ouderstand  the  thing.  You  see,"  he  added,  recollecting 
as  well  as  he  could  some  Latin  words  he  had  heard  used  by  the 
doctor,  "  the  narves  of  the  rtgdum  flagdurn  in  circumnavigating 
through  the  humorous  rusticus,  deflastigated  by  the  horrentibus 
oribus  sort  o'  twist  the  aures  arrectos  into  asinos,  and  that 
you  see,  to  a  man  of  laming  makes  the  whole  thing  as  clear  as 
one  of  elder  Silly  way's  sarmons." 

Primus  fairly  caught  his  breath  at  Tom's  display  of  learning, 
who  rose  considerably  higher  also  in  Basset's  estimation.  After 
somewhat  recovering  from  his.  astonishment,  and  as  if  he  had 
been  reflecting  on  the  subject,  the  General  said  : — • 

"  Laming  is  a  great  ting,  and  perhaps  you  is  right  and  per 
haps  you  isn't,  but  I  hear  anoder  way  to  'count  for  it." 

"  Out  with  it  then,"  cried  Tom. 

"  White  folks,"  said  Primus,  "  hab  one  way  to  'count  for 
tings,  and  colored  pussons  hab  anoder  way.  Now  I  hear  a 
colored  pussun,  who  come  all  de  way  from  Africa,  where  dey 
onderstands  dese  tings,  say  it  was  de  jumbee." 

"  The  jumbee  !  What  in  natur's  that?"  inquired  Basset, 
who  had  not  before  mingled  in  the  conversation. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  137 

"  Now,  none  of  your  tricks,  Prime,"  cried  Tom,  suspecting  the 
negro  of  an  intention  to  mystify  them  with  a  jargon  like  that 
tie  had  palmed  off  ;  "jumbee  ain't  Latin." 

"Nobody  say  it  was,"  returned  Primus.  "I  guess  de  old 
fellow  nebber  hab  much  chance  to  study  Latin.  He  better 
'quainted  wid  de  shovel  and  de  hoe.  Dat  mean  in  de  Congo 
language,  sperit." 

"  Colored  people  are  curus  folks,"  ejaculated  Basset. 

"  I  don't  see  fairly  what  you're  driving  at  yet,"  said  Gladding. 
"  Suppose  jumbee  does  mean  sperit,  what  then  ?" 

"  I  mean  dat  de  hand  turn  into  a  sperit.  Don't  you  see, 
Missa  Basset,"  exclaimed  Primus,  suddenly  poking  his  wooden 
leg  at  the  constable,  "de  sperit  ob  my  leg  ?" 

"  Don't,  don't,  Prime,"  cried  the  startled  constable,  drawing 
back  and  nearly  falling  in  his  fright  into  the  water.  "What's 
the  use  of  talking  about  sperits  now  ?  Come  let  us  talk  about 
something  else." 

"  Well,"  grinned  Primus,  "  if  you  don't  see  de  sperit,  I  feel 
him." 

lt  Don't  talk  so  ;  you're  spoiling  all  the  pleasure  of  the  sail 
by  such  kind  o'  nonsense,"  urged  Basset. 

"Don't  you  believe  in  sperits?"  inquired  the  persevering 
General. 

"  I  tell  ye  I  don't  like  to  talk  about  such  things  now," 
responded  Basset. 

"  Why  I  can  give  you  chapter  and  varse  for  'em,"  said  Tom. 
"You  remember,  Basset,  all  about  Samuel  and  the  witch  o' 
Endor,  and  that's  authority,  I  guess." 

"Well,  if  1  do  I  don't  care  to  be  chattering  all  the  time 
about  'em,  though  there's  some  says,  they  don't  appear  now  as 
they  used  to  in  old  times." 

This  was  an  unfortunate  remark  for  the  badgered  Basset.  His 
two  friends,  as  if  it  were  of  the  extremest  consequence  to  convert 


138  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

him  from  an  opinion  so  heretical,  opened  for  his  benefit  a  whole 
budget  of  ghost  stories.  In  spite  of  most  unwilling  ears  he  was 
obliged  to  listen  with  a  fascinated  reluctance  to  tales  of  super 
natural  wonders,  in  most  of  which  the  narrators  had  themselves 
been  actors,  or  derived  their  information  from  persons,  whose 
veracity  it  would  be  a  sin  to  doubt.  Among  them  was  a 
legend  told  by  Gladding,  of  a  murdered  fisherman,  whose  ghost 
he  had  seen  himself,  and  which  was  said  still  to  haunt  the  banks 
of  the  Severn,  and  never  was  seen  without  bringing  ill-luck.  It 
is  the  only  one  with  which  we  will  trouble  our  readers,  and  we 
relate  it  as  a  sort  of  specimen  of  the  others. 

"  You  see,"  said  Tom,  "  it  was  the  spring  o'  the  year,  and  the 
shad  begun  to  swim  up  stream,  when  I  joined  Sam  Olmstead's 
company,  and  took  a  share  in  his  fishing.  Well,  things  went 
on  pretty  well  for  a  while,  it  was  fisherman's  luck,  fish  one  day, 
and  none  the  next,  and  we  was,  on  the  whole,  tolerable  satisfied, 
seeing  there  was  no  use  to  be  anything  else,  though  towards  the 
eend,  it's  a  fact,  there  wasn't  many  schools  come  along.  We 
had  built  a  sort  o'  hut  of  boards  by  the  side  of  the  river  where 
we  kept  the  nets,  and  where  some  on  us  slept  to  look  after  the 
property.  Well,  my  turn  came  to  stay  at  the  shanty,  and  I 
recollect  the  night  just  as  well  I  It  was  coolish,  not  so  cool  as 
this,  though  something  like  it,  for  there  was  some  clouds  float 
ing  around,  but  it  was  a  good  deal  lighter,  'cause  the  moon  was 
in  her  third  quarter.  I  felt  sort  o'  lonesome  there,  all  alone 
with  the  nets  and  the  fish,  and  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have 
done  but  for  some  of  the  '  0  be  joyful '  I  had  in  a  jug.  I  tried 
my  best  to  fortify  my  stomach,  and  keep  up  my  sperits  agin  the 
damp,  but  I  didn't  seem  to  succeed.  Finally,  thinks  I  to 
myself,  I'll  go  and  take  a  snuff  of  the  night  air,  perhaps  it  will 
set  me  up.  So  I  sort  o'  strolled  down  towards  the  shore,  and 
then  I  walked  up  a  piece,  and  then  I  walked  back  agin,  and 
once  in  a  while  I'd  step  into  the  shanty  and  take  a  pull  at  old 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  139 

Rye.  Well,  seeing  as  how  it  agreed  with  me,  and  I  begun  to 
feel  better,  I  kept  making  my  walks  longer  and  longer  till  I 
strolled  to  a  considerable  distance.  It  was  in  one  of  them 
turns  I  see  the  ghost.  I  supposed  afore  that  ghosts  always 
appeared  in  white,  but  this  one  didn't.  He  was  dressed  just 
like  any  other  fisherman,  in  a  dark  grey  jacket  and  trowsers 
and  a  tarpaulin.  It  seemed  to  me  at  first  he  wanted  to  git  out 
of  the  way,  but  I  made  tracks  for  him,  for  I  didn't  then  a  bit 
mistrust  about  its  being  a  sperit,  and  halloed  out '  Who's  that  ?' 
The  sperit,  as  soon  as  he  heard  me,  came  straight  up,  and  then 
I  noticed  he  hadtwo  fish  dangling  down  by  a  string,  and  says 
he,  in  a  sort  o'  hoarse  voice,  as  if  he'd  caught  cold  lying  in  the 
ground,  '  It's  me  ;  it's  the  ghost  of  Jimmy  Lanfear.'  Well, 
when  I  heard  him  speak  so,  my  flesh  begun  to  kind  o'  crawl, 
though  I  didn't  know  but  it  might  be  some  fellow  who  had  stole 
the  shad  out  of  the  shanty,  for  I  never  heard  of  ghosts  carry 
ing  fish  afore.  So  says  I,  '  What  are  you  doing  with  them 
fish  ?'  Then,  says  he,  '  Them  ain't  any  real  fish  ;  see  if  you 
can  touch  'em.'  And  then  he  swung  'em  round  and  round  in 
the  moonlight,  and  I  did  my  best  to  catch  'em,  but  I  might 
just  as  well  have  snatched  at  the  moonshine,  for  my  hands  went 
right  through  'em  agin  and  agin,  till  I  stubbed  my  toe,  and  fell 
somehow,  and  when  I  got  up,  the  sperit  was  gone.  Then  I 
knew  it  was  Jim  Lanf ear's  sperit,  wh®  was  murdered  years  ago 
right  opposite  the  spot  where  I  asked  you,  Prime,  if  you  knew 
where  you  was  ;  and  I  was  sartin  the  luck  was  all  up  for  that 
season,  and  sure  enough  it  was',  for  we  didn't  make  more'n  two 
or  three  hauls  more  of  any  consequence." 

"  I  am  sure  dere  was  one  sperit  dere,"  said  Primus,  in  a  mus 
ing  way,  and  shaking  his  head. 

"  Now,  Prime,  what  do  you  mean  by  bobbing  up  and  down 
your  wool?  Do  you  intend  to  signify,  you  onbelieving  old 
scamp,  you  doubt  my  word  ?  I  tell  you  I  was  no  more  corned 


140  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

than  I  am  now.  Why,  if  you  want  to,  you  can  see  Jim  almost 
any  dark  night.  Perhaps  he's  walking  along  shore  now." 

"  What  dat  ?"  cried  Primus,  pretending  to  see  something  on 
the  land. 

Basset  started,  and  strained  his  eyes  through  the  darkness  in 
the  direction  indicated,  but  could  discover  nothing.  The  vision 
of  Primus  and  Gladding  was  better. 

"  Don't  ye  see  some  ting,"  said  the  former,  lowering  his  voice, 
"  right  under  de  bank.  I  can't  just  see  de  shape,  but  it  seem 
as  if  it  swim  in  de  air  widout  legs.  You  eyes  is  younger,  Missa 
Gladding  ;  guess  dey  see  furder  dan  mine." 

"  I  can  make  him  out  now,"  whispered  Gladding.  "  It's  a 
man,  sure  as  rates.  Golly!"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly,  "if  it 
ain't  Jim — look,  Basset,  look." 

The  constable  had  listened  in  an  agony  of  terror  to  the  collo 
quy,  and  at  the  exclamation  of  Primus,  availing  himself  of  his 
post  as  steersman,  turned  the  bow  of  the  boat  towards  the 
opposite  shore,  to  place  as  great  an  interval  as  possible  between 
himself  and  the  spectre.  The  action  had  not  passed  unnoticed, 
though  neither  of  his  companions  made  any  remark  upon  it. 
Repeatedly  his  head  had  flown  round  over  his  shoulder,  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  what  he  dreaded  to  see,  but,  notwithstanding  the 
excitement  of  his  imagination,  .he  could  behold  nothing. 

"  0,  Tom  !  O,  Prime  I"  exclaimed  the  poor  fellow,  "  let  us 
go  home.  I  wish  we  was  fairly  out  of  this  scrape." 

"Why,"  said  Tom,  "we're  'most  there  now.  We  should  be 
laughed  at  if  we  was  to  give  it  up  so.  Who's  afraid  o'  sperits  ? 
They're  nothing  but  moonshine.  I  vow,"  he  cried,  pointing 
over  the  opposite  side  of  the  boat,  "if  he  ain't  there  agin  ! 
Look,  Basset." 

But  Basset  was  too  busy  with  his  paddle  to  look.  With  a 
twist  of  his  wrist  he  had  whirled  the  bow  of  the  boat  in  the 
direction  of  the  bank  they  had  just  left,  and  was  paddling 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  141 

away  for  dear  life.  This  time  he  appeared  to  arrive  at  the  con 
clusion  that  the  middle  of  the  stream  would  be  the  safest  posi 
tion,  and  having  attained  that,  he  kept,  as  nearly  as  he  could 
judge,  at  equal  distances  from  the  banks.  A  short  space  only 
now  remained  to  be  passed  over,  and  in  a  few  moments  they 
were  abreast  of  the  island.  Here  the  two  men  rested  on  their 
oars,  and  a  whispered  consultation  was  held,  at  the  conclusion 
of  which  the  boat  was  quietly  pulled  towards  the  goal.  This 
was  not  done,  however,  without  another  attempt  on  the  part 
of  the  constable  to  postpone  the  capture  for  that  night,  but  the 
proposal  was  overruled  by  his  associates,  who  scouted  at  his 
fears,  and  declared  there  was  no  danger. 

Basset's  nerves  were  in  a  shocking  condition.  The  doleful 
stories  croaked  into  his  ears  the  whole  passage  down  ;  the 
darkness  of  the  hour  ;  Holden's  terrible  character  ;  and  the 
remoteness  from  any  assistance  other  than  that  of  Gladding 
and  Primus,  in  whom  his  confidence  diminished  every  moment, 
conspired  to  throw  him  into  the  abjectest  trepidation.  But 
there  was  no  retreat  ;  Gladding  was  as  obstinate  as  a  mule, 
and  as  for  the  General,  true  to  his  military  reputation,  he 
insisted  on  advancing,  and  the  unfortunate  officer  of  the  law, 
who  was  as  much  afflicted  with  spiritual  as  with  material  fears, 
found  himself  in  a  dilemma,  the  solution  of  which  was  taken 
away  from  him.  No  alternative  remained.  He  must,  be  the 
consequences  what  they  might,  see  the  adventure  through. 
Borrowing,  therefore,  courage  from  despair,  with  a  timid  step 
and  palpitating  heart,  he  left  the  boat  and  closely  followed  his 
companions. 

No  light  was  visible,  and  the  constable  began  to  hope  that 
Holden  was  away  from  home,  and  made  the  suggestion  that 
since  such  was  undoubtedly  the  fact,  they  had  better  return  and 
come  another  time.  But  Gladding,  pointing  to  a  canoe  not 
before  observed,  convinced  Basset  of  the  contrary,  and  it  was 


142  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

then  agreed  that  they  should  first,  according  to  the  plan 
arranged,  approach  the  cabin  and  reconnoitre  through  the 
window.  This  being  the  post  of  danger,  was  offered  to  Basset, 
who,  however,  could  be  prevailed  on  by  no  entreaties  to  accept 
it,  which  finally  forced  Gladding  to  volunteer.  They  all  stood 
now  on  a  side  of  the  hut  where  there  was  neither  door  nor 
window,  being,  indeed,  the  side  they  had  been  careful  to 
approach  in  the  boat.  Gladding  was  to  steal  to  one  of  the 
windows,  and  after  examining  the  interior  (if  possible),  to 
return  and  apprise  them  of  his  discoveries.  Accordingly,  he 
started  off. 

He  had  been  gone  but  a  few  minutes  when  Primus  began  to 
be  uneasy,  and  proposed  to  change  their  position  to  one  nearer 
the  hut,  their  figures  being  too  much  exposed  where  they  were, 
in  consequence  of  standing  in  relief  against  the  sky  and  water. 
The  constable  would  gladly  have  stuck  by  the  boat,  as  furnish 
ing  a  means  of  retreat,  but  dared  not  remain  alone.  Reluc 
tantly,  therefore,  and  cursing  the  obstinacy  of  the  provoking 
black,  he  crouched  his  body  towards  the  ground,  and  followed 
in  the  rear  of  the  General,  that  brave  officer  seeming  disposed 
to  talk  louder  and  make  more  noise  generally  than  pleased  his 
companion,  who,  from  time  to  time,  earnestly  remonstrated  with 
him  on  the  imprudence. 

"What  dat  !"  suddenly  exclaimed  Primus,  recoiling  on  the 
other,  and  pointing  with  his  hand  directly  in  front. 

"  Where  ?  where  ?"  whispered  Basset,  with  his  heart  in  his 
mouth,  raising  himself,  and  catching  hold  of  Primus'  arm. 

"  Hush  1"  said  the  General,  "  is  dat  a  groan  ?" 

At  that  instant  a  tremendous  blow  was  applied  to  the 
shoulders  of  the  constable,  which  sent  him  flat  upon  his  face, 
dragging  the  General,  who  caught  a  part  of  the  application, 
after  him.  As  Basset  fell,  his  hat  dropped  off,  and  a  paper 
flew  out,  which  Primus  picked  up,  and  immediately  pocketed, 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  143 

hastening  then,  as  fast  as  his  wooden  leg  would  permit,  towards 
the  boat,  which  lay  only  four  or  five  rods  distant.  There  he 
found  Gladding  preparing  to  push  off,  and  scrambling  in,  they 
had  just  succeeded  in  getting  her  afloat,  when  Basset,  without 
his  hat,  flung  himself,  in  the  extremity  of  his  terror,  headlong 
in,  pitching  Primus  dowa  upon  the  bottom,  breaking  his 
wooden  leg,  and  capsizing  Tom  into  the  water.  It  was  so 
shoal  that  he  found  no  difficulty  in  getting  in  again,  escaping 
with  only  a  thorough  ducking.  It  was  now  sauve  qui  peut,  and 
the  three  addressed  themselves,  so  far  as  their  bewildered  facul 
ties  would  permit,  to  the  business  of  escape. 

Thus  closed  the  adventures  of  that  disastrous  night.  All  the 
way  home,  Primus  kept  groaning  over  the  loss  of  his  leg,  the 
only  consolation  he  could  extract  out  of  the  calamity,  being 
that  it  was  easier  to  mend  than  one  of  flesh,  and  cheaper,  and 
upbraiding  Basset  with  his  haste  and  carelessness.  Gladding 
insisted  on  being  landed,  in  order  to  prevent,  by  exercise,  tak 
ing  cold,  threatening,  in  his  turn,  the  constable,  that  if  his 
clothes  were  spoiled,  he  should  come  upon  him  for  the  damage. 
Poor  Basset,  quite  confounded,  by  these  harrowing  events,  had 
not  a  word  to  answer,  and  replied  only  by  shrugging  and  twist 
ing  his  shoulders  with  pain.  The  departure  of  Tom  made  it 
necessary  for  him  to  assist  the  negro  in  rowing  back  the  boat, 
which  he  did  with  a  handkerchief  tied  about  his  head,  which 
Primus  lent  him,  and  wincing  with  the  soreness  of  his  bones. 
The  negro  interspersed  his  moans  with  expressions  of  sorrow 
over  their  ill-luck,  and  of  wonder  whether  it  was  Holden  or 
the  ghost  of  the  fisherman  that  assaulted  the  constable,  vowing 
he  would  "  hab  satisfacshum  for  de  loss  ob  de  le£." 


144  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


CHAPTER    XIY. 

Gelid. — Here  comes  Monsieur  Le  Beau, 
Rosalind.— With  his  mouth  full  of  news. 

As  You  LIKE  IT. 

"  You  strike  dreadful  hard,  Missa  Gladding.  If  you  can't 
write,  I  guess  you  can  make  you  mark,"  said  the  General,  rub 
bing  his  shoulders. 

"I  was  larned  to  do  one,  and  t'other  come  natural,"  said 
Tom,  laughing  ;  "  but  I  didn't  lay  it  on  a  bit  too  hard.  You 
see  I  had  to  bring  him  a  pretty  good  polt,  so  as  to  lay  him  flat, 
else  he  might  ha'  found  it  all  out,  the  good-for-nothing  son-of-a- 
gun,  to  go  to  sarve  a  warrant  on  an  old  man,  just  for  speaking 
his  mind  in  meeting.  I  go  in  for  liberty.  And  then  to  insult 
you  and  me,  Prime,  by  asking  us  to  help  him !  But  I  didn't 
mean  to  strike  you,  except  in  the  way  of  friendship." 

"  You  friendship  too  smart  for  me,  Missa  Gladding,  and  s'pose 
I  break  my  neck  in  de  fall,  what  you  friendship  good  for  den  ?" 

"  But  you  hain't  broke  nothing  but  your  leg,  and  I  see  you've 
got  another  rigged,  and  the  half  dollar  Basset  give  you  will 
more'n  pay  for  that ;  though,  if  I  was  you,  I'd  come  down  upon 
him  in  damages  for  the  loss — 'twas  in  his  sarvice — and  then  his 
digging  his  head  right  into  your  stomach,  when  he  come  thunder 
ing  into  the  boat,  I  call  a  regular  assault  and  battery." 

"How  you  like  you  cold  duck  wid  sea-weed  saace,  Missa  Glad 
ding  ?"  retorted  Primus  ;  and  here  the  two  united  in  peals  of 
laughter. 

"  Cunning  fellow,  dat  Basset,"  said  Primus.     "  He  kill  two 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  145 

bird  wid  one  stone — knock  me  into  de  bottom  ob  de  boat,  and 
chuck  you  oberboard,  all  at  once."  And  the  merriment  was 
renewed. 

"  Do  you  think  he  has  any  suspicions,  Prime  !"  said  Tom. 

"  Dat  question  acquire  some  reflexum,"  answered  the  General. 
"  Whedder  it  was  old  Holden  or  de  fisherman  ghost  dat  gib  him 
de  strike  on  de  back  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean  whether  he  thought  you  or 
me  had  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  the  General,  doubtingly.  "  If  sich  an 
idee  git  into  his  head,  somebody  will  put  it  dere." 

"  Well,  what  did  he  say  coming  home  ?" 

"Not  much  ;  dere  he  set  in  front,  wid  his  back  to  me,  rowing, 
and  his  head  all  tie  up  wid  my  bandanna,  and  he  seem  sort  o' 
snarl  up,  as  if  he  want  a  night's  rest  to  take  de  kinks  out  ob  him. 
He  was  not  much  'cline  to  Agreeable  conversashum.  I  feel  kind 
o'  sorry  when  I  see  him  so  mellancholliky  like." 

"  You  needn't  be  so  liberal  with  your  sorry.  The  scamp 
desarves  it  all  and  more,  too.  The  cretur's  cheated  us  out  of 
half  our  fun.  How  I  should  ha'  liked  to  leave  him,  as  we 
intended,  alone  with  old  Holden  on  the  island  1  The  chicken- 
hearted  booby  would  ha'  half  died  o'  fright,  and  then  'twould 
ha'  been  worth  nuts  to  see  how  he  looked  when  the  old  man 
caught  him  in  the  morning,  and  asked  after  his  business." 

"  He  nebber  stay  till  dat  time.  He  would  hab  swum  'cross 
de  channel,  and  run  home." 

"  Well,  he'd  found  out,  then,  how  a  fellow  likes  to  be  soused 
in  the  water,  as  the  blundering  blunderbus  did  me,  darn  him." 

"  0,  nebber  bear  no  malice.  I  'scuse  Basset  'cause  he  don't 
know  no  better,  and  you  must  forgib  him." 

"As  to  that,  you  needn't  fret  your  gizzard.  But  how  did  you 
git  home,  Prime,  with  your  broken  leg  ?" 

"  Dat  is  a  secret  atween  me  and  Basset ;  but  I  didn't  walk." 

7 


146  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"Then,  I  vow,"  said  Tom,  bursting  into  a  laugh,  "he  either 
trundled  you  along  in  a  wheelbarrow,  like  a  load  o'  pumpkins,  or 
else  carried  you  on  his  back." 

"  Nobody  roll  me  in  a  wheelbarrow,"  said  the  General,  draw 
ing  himself  up,  and  affecting  to  be  offended. 

"  I  would  ha'  given  all  my  old  shirts  to  see  a  darkey  riding 
Basset,"  said  Tom,  whose  merriment  increased  the  more  he  dwelt 
on  the  idea. 

"  A  colored  pusson  as  light  complexum  as  a  white  man  in  de 
dark,"  exclaimed  Primus,  grinning. 

"Well,  old  Prime,  you're  the  cleverest  nigger  I  ever  did  see," 
said  Tom,  slapping  him  on  the  back,  and  still  laughing  ;  "  but 
take  care  you  don't  feel  too  proud  after  your  ride.  Put  a 
nigger  on  horseback,  and  you  know  where  he  goes.  But  what 
have  you  got  there  ?"  he  inquired,  seeing  the  General  draw  a 
paper  out  of  his  pocket. 

"  Dis  paper  fall  out  ob  Missa  Basset  hat  when  de  ghost  strike 
him  last  night,  and  I  pick  him  up." 

"Golly!   if  it  ain't  the  warrant.     Prime,  you're  the  ace  o' 
clubs.     I'm  gladder  of  this  than  if  I  found  a  good  dinner.". 
"  Well,  what  shall  I  do  wid  him  ?" 

"  Why,  man,  burn  it  up  ;  it's  the  constable's  sword  and  gun, 
and  baggonit  and  cartridge-box ;  he  can't  do  nothing  without  it ; 
why,  without  the  warrant,  he's  just  like  a  cat  without  claws. 
He  daresu't  touch  a  man  without  a  warrant." 

"If  Missa  Basset  trow  de  paper  away,  I  'spose  he  don't 
want  him,  and  lie  ain't  good  for  noting,  and  nobody  can  find 
fault  wid  me  for  burning  up  a  little  piece  ob  waste  paper,  just  to 
kindle  de  fire,"  said  Primus,  throwing  the  warrant  into  the 
flames,  where  it  was  immediately  consumed. 

"  There,  we've  drawn  Basset's  eye-teeth  now,"  said  Gladding. 
"  Holden's  as  safe  as  you  or  me.  And,  Prime,"  he  added,  rising, 
and,  as  he  took  leave,  making  a  peculiar  gesture  with  the  thumb 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  141 

of  his  right  hand  touching  the  end  of  his  nose,  and  his  fingers 
twinkling  in  the  air,  "  you're  too  old  a  fox  to  need  teaching,  but 
it  will  do  no  harm  to  say  I  advise  you  to  keep  as  dark  as  your 
skin." 

Such  was  the  conversation  that,  on  the  morning  after  the 
adventure  of  the  island,  took  place  at  the  cabin  of  Primus,  and 
the  reader  will  now  perfectly  understand  (if,  indeed,  he  has  not 
before  discovered  it)  the  relation  which  the  associates  bore  to 
the  constable.  Yet,  there  was  some  difference  in  the  feelings  of 
the  two :  Gladding  felt  only  unmitigated  contempt  for  Basset, 
while  the  good-nature  of  the  negro  (proverbial  of  the  race) 
infused  some  pity  into  the  sentiment. 

"  Tom  Gladding  hab  no  manners,"  said  Primus  to  himself, 
after  the  departure  of  his  friend.  "It  is  bery  onpleasant  to 
hear  sich  pussonal  inflections.  But,  probumbly,  arter  he  keep 
company  wid  me  a  little  longer,  he  larn  better." 

How  it  got  out,  nobody  could  tell.  Tom  and  the  General 
both  declared  they  had  said  nothing  about  it,  and  Basset  was 
equally  positive  he  had  not  opened  his  mouth.  It  is,  therefore, 
singular  that,  before  twelve  o'clock  the  next  day,  rumors  of  the 
adventure  had  reached  the  ears  of  more  than  one-half  the  inha 
bitants  of  Hillsdale.  True,  none  were  very  accurate,  nor  did 
any  two  agree  ;  for,  as  is  apt  to  happen,  in  such  cases,  each  one 
who  told  the  story  took  care,  most  conscientiously,  it  should  lose 
nothing  iii  the  repetition.  Hence,  before  noon,  it  was,  like  most 
of  our  modern  literature,  "splendidly  embellished." 

It  was  not  strange,  then,  that  the  doctor,  in  his  morning 
round  among  his  patients  and  friends,  should  get  some  inkling  of 
it.  Divested  of  ornaments,  enough  remained  to  satisfy  him  that 
an  attempt  to  arrest  Holden  had  been  made.  For  the  cause,  he 
was  at  first  at  a  loss  ;  for,  though  he  had  heard  of  the  disturb 
ance  at  the  conference,  he  hardly  supposed  that  an  offence  which 
he  regarded  as  so  venial,  would  have  drawn  along  such  serious 


148  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

consequences.  But  when  he  heard  that  generally  assigned  as 
the  reason,  having  no  words  of  his  own  to  express  his  astonish 
ment,  he  was  obliged  to  resort  to  his  unfailing  treasury— 


"  '  Can  such  things  be, 
And  overcome  us  like  a  summer  cloud, 
.Without  our  special  wonder?'  " 


The  quotation  did  not  seem  fully  to  answer  the  purpose,  and  he 
added,  "  Foolery,  sir,  does  walk  about  the  orb  like  the  sun :  it 
shines  everywhere."  This  gave  him  relief.  It  acted  more  sooth 
ingly  than  his  own  anodyne  drops  ;  and,  having  thus  recovered 
his  equanimity,  he  determined  to  ascertain  if  the  Armstrongs 
had  heard  the  news. 

He  found  Miss  Armstrong  at  home,  but  not  her  father. 
"You  have  heard  the  news,  Faith,  this  morning.  I  suppose  ?" 
said  the  doctor. 

"  No  ;  we  are  not  much  like  the  Athenians.  Neither  my 
father  nor  myself  are  accustomed  to  get  the  first  edition.  What 
is  it,  doctor  ?" 

But  the  doctor  did  not  relish  being  called,  by  the  remotest 
implication,  an  Athenian.  As  inquisitive  as  the  most  prying 
Yankee  is  said  to  be,  he  stoutly  repelled  the  imputation  of  inqui- 
sitiveness,  as  applied  to  himself  or  to  his  countrymen, 
was,"  he  was  in  the  habit  of  saying,  "  a  slander  invented  by  your 
porter-guzzling  Englishmen  and  smoking  Dutchmen.  What  can 
you  expect  of  people  who  are  involved  in  a  perpetual  cloud 
either  of  their  own  raising  or  of  the  making  of  Providence  ? 
They  are  adapted  to  circumstances.  It  never  was  intended  they 
should  have  more  than  one  idea  a  week  ;  it  would  be  too  much 
for  their  constitution  ;  and  therefore  they  ask  no  questions.  No 
wonder,  then,  they  feel  uncomfortable  when  they  get  into  a  clear 
climate,'  where  they  can  see  the  sun,  and  hear  ideas  buzzing  about 
their  ears  like  a  swarm  of  bees." 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  149 

The  doctor  appeared  to  have  forgotten  his  own  question,  and 
not  to  have  heard  Miss  Armstrong's. 

"  You  are  looking  remarkably  well,"  he  said.  You  ought  to 
be  ashamed  to  meet  me  :  if  everybody  else  were  like  you,  I 
should  starve." 

"All  your  own  fault,  dear  doctor.  Your  presence  brings 
cheerfulness  and  health." 

"To  say  nothing  of  the  medicine.  Of  that  (in  confidence 
between  us),  the  less  the*better.  If  I  should  ever  become  crazy 
enough  to  prescribe  any  other  than  bread  pills,  be  sure  to  throw 
them  out  of  the  window.  There,  you  have  the  secret  of  medical 
success  ;  though  if  I  pursue  the  system  much  longer,  I  think  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  adopt  the  Emperor  of  China's  plan,  and 
require  a  salary  for  your  health,  on  condition  it  shall  stop  when 
you  are  sick." 

"  I  admire  the  Emperor's  plan,  so  let  it  be  understood  that  is 
the  arrangement  between  us.  I  have  the  best  of  the  bargain, 
for  I  shall  secure  a  greater  number  of  visits." 

"  You  provoking  creature  !  smothering  me  with  compliments, 
and  pretending  you  are  not  dying  with  curiosity.  This  is  always 
the  way  with  your  tormenting  sex  : 

"  '  Let  Hercules  do  what  he  may, 
The  cat  will  mew » " 

"  And  girls  will  have  their  way,"  interrupted  Faith,  laughing, 
and  finishing  the  quotation  to  suit  herself.  "  But,  doctor,  you 
have  conquered,  and  please  now  '  unmuzzle  your  wisdom.'  " 

"Methinks,"  cried  the  doctor,  "  'sometimes  I  have  no  more 
wit  than  a  Christian  or  an  ordinary  man ;  but  I  am  a  great 
eater  of  beef,  and  I  believe  that  does  harm  to  my  wit,'  else  I 
should  not  allow  you  to  tease  me.  But,"  added  he,  in  a  more 
serious  tone,  "  there  is  a  report  in  the  village  that  an  attempt 
has  been  made  to  arrest  Holden." 


150  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"To  arrest  whom?1'  exclaimed  Faith,  turning  pale,  "father 
Holden  !  For  what  ?" 

"  He  is  not  taken  yet,  and,  were  one  to  believe  all  the  stories 
one  hears,  not  likely  to  be.  According  to  them,  his  enchanted 
castle  on  Salmon  Island  is  protected,  not  only  by  his  own  stal 
wart  arm,  but  byjegions  of  ghosts  and  hobgoblins  ;  and,  since 
that  is  the  case,  he  may  safely  defy  the  posse  comitatus  itself,  with 
the  sheriff  at  its  head.  But,  for  the  cause — 

"  * It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause,  my  soul, 
Let  me  not  name  it  to  you,  ye  chaste  stars, 
It  is  the  cause ' — 

Why,  because  be  made  the  most  interesting  speech  at  conference 
the  other  evening." 

Miss  Armstrong,  whom  the  jesting  manner  of  the  doctor 
somewhat  re-assured,  begged  him  to  give  her  all  the  information 
he  had  obtained  ;  but,  throwing  aside  what  he  considered  the 
embellishments  of  fancy,  it  was  no  more  than  what  he  had 
already  imparted. 

"What  would  be  the  punishment  for  such  an  offence?" 
inquired  Faith. 

"  I  am  more  learned  in  pills  than  in  points  of  law;  but  I  sup 
pose  some  trifling  fine." 

"  It  would  be  of  no  great  consequence,  were  it  any  one  else," 
said  Faith  ;  "but  it  would  grieve  me  to  have  Mr.  Holden  sub 
jected  to  an  indignity  he  would  feel  sensibly.  It  was  through 
my  father's  and  my  entreaties  he  attended  the  meeting,  and  if 
censure  is  to  fall  anywhere,  it  ought  to  alight  on  us,  and  not  on 
him,  who  certainly  supposed  he  was  performing  a  duty,  however 
much  he  might  be  mistaken.  Dear  doctor,  I  shall  trust  in  you 
to  watch  that  no  harm  befalls  him.  I  should  forever  reproach 
myself  as  the  cause,  if  any  did." 

You  may  rely  on  me,  my  dear.     It  is  not  so  much  on  account 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  151 

of  the  old  fellow,  who  richly  deserves  to  be  fined  and  shut  up  a 
week  for  running  about  the  country  and  frightening  the  children 
with  his  long  beard — why  my  horse  started  at  it  the  other  day 
— but  because  you  take  an  interest  in  him,  and  I  am  above  all 
jealousy;  therefore,  command  me, 

^ 

"  '  Be't  to  fly, 

To  swim,  to  dive  into  the  fire,  to  ride 
On  the  curled  clouds  ;  to  thy  strong  bidding  task 
Ariel  and  all  his  quality.  " 

"  My  commands  will  not  be  so  difficult  to  perform,  I  trust," 
said  Faith,  smiling. 

""Understand  me  metaphorically,  parabolically,  poetically," 
cried  he,  taking  leave. 

After  he  was  gone  Miss  Armstrong  sat  musing  over  what  she 
had  heard.  The  idea  that  any  annoyance  should  happen  to  the 
Solitary,  growing  out  of  a  circumstance  with  which  she  was  in 
some  manner  connected,  distressed  her  exceedingly,  and,  dissa 
tisfied  with  the  meagre  statement  of  the  doctor,  she  determined 
to  go  over  to  Judge  Bernard's,  to  try  to  procure  more  satisfac 
tory  information. 

"  He  will,  at  least,"  she  said,  "be  better  acquainted  with  the 
law  than  Doctor  Elmer,  and  there  is  no  favor  he  will  refuse  me." 

But  the  Judge  was  unable  to  add  anything  of  importance. 
He  had  heard  the  same  rumors,  but  could  not  vouch  for  their 
truth.  With  regard  to  the  issuing  of  a  warrant  for  such  a 
cause,  he  could  not  say  but  that  persons  might  be  found  malig 
nant  enough  to  get  one  out,  and  justices  of  the  peace  foolish 
and  ignorant  enough  to  be  made  their  instruments,  but  if  it 
came  to  the  worst,  the  penalty  could  only  be  a  fine,  which  he 
would  gladly  pay  himself. 

"  He  cannot  be  imprisoned  then  ?"  inquired  Miss  Armstrong. 

"  No  ;  they  would  not  dare,"  he  said,  to  himself  in  a  tone  so 
low  that  Faith  could  catch  only  a  word  -or  two  here  and  there, 


152  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"send  him — disorderly — no  settlement — no,  no — too  bad — 
might  be  done.  ]STo,  Faith/'  he  said,  "you  need  anticipate  no 
serious  trouble  about  your  protege" 

11  Cannot  we  prevent  his  being  arrested  ?  It  would  mortify 
him  exceedingly." 

"  For  that,  perhaps,  there  is  no  remedy,  but  we  will  see. 
We  are  all  equally  amenable  to  the  laws.  But  after  all,  the 
thing  may  not  be  noticed.  These  may  be  only  rumors  put  out 
by  some  mischievous  person  to  keep  Holden  away  from  the 
village." 

"They  can  have  no  such  effect.'7 

"  No :  and  yet  the  rogue  who  invents  them  may  think  they 
will." 

"  I  should  not  be  at  all  anxious,  Faith,"  said  Anne.  "  Here 
are  my  father,  and  yours,  and  my  chivalrous  brother,  and —  " 

"  And  Mr.  Thomas  Pownal,"  said  Faith,  smiling,  observing 
she  hesitated. 

"Yes,  and  Mr.  Pownal  ;  1  am  sure  they  would  all  be  happy 
to  spend  a  great  deal  of  breath  and  a  little  money  in  your  ser 
vice.  They  will  protect  Father  Holden.  What  are  the  gentle 
men  good  for,  if  they  cannot  grace  a  fair  lady  thus  far  ?" 

"  And  Mistress  Anne,  should  they  fail,  would,  like  another 
Don  Quixote,  with  lance  in  rest,  charge  the  enemy,  and  release 
the  captive  knight,  herself,"  said  her  father,  pinching  her  cheek. 

"  Like  Arnadis  de  Gaul,  father,  and  then  would  I  present  the 
captive  of  my  sword  and  lance  to  you,  Faith,  though  what  you 
would  do  with  him  I  do  not  know." 

"  Do  not  let  us  hear  of  swords  and  lances  from  you,  Anne," 
said  her  mother.  "  Thimbles  and  needles  become  you  better." 

"If  I  had  been -a  man,"  exclaimed  Anne,  "and  lived  in  the 
olden  time,  how  I  would  have  gloried  in  such  an  adventure  1 
You,  Faith,  should  have  been  the  distressed  damsel,  I  the 
valorous  knight,  and  Father  Holden  a  captured  seneschal. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  153 

How  would  I  have  slashed  around  me,  and  how  would  you  have 
blushed,  and  hung  about  my  neck,  and  kissed  me,  when  I 
appeared  leading  by  the  hand  your  venerable  servitor  1" 

"  What !  what  1"  cried  her  father,  "  before  the  seneschal  ?" 

"  He  would  be  so  old  he  could  not  see,  or,  if  he  was  not, 
tears  of  joy  would  fill  his-  eyes  so  that  they  would  blind  him," 
said  Anne. 

"  An  excellent  idea,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Bernard  :  "  hand 
me  my  knitting-work." 

"What !  a  kuight  hand  knitting-work  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  her  father.  "  It  is  a  knight's  business  and 
delight,  to  be  employed  in  the  service  of  the  fair." 

"  Here  is  your  knitting,  mamma.  I  am  an  enchanted  knight, 
changed  by  some  horrible  incantation  into  a  girl,"  said  Anne, 
resuming  her  needle. 

-  "  Worth  twice  all  the  preux  chevaliers  from  Bayard  down," 
said  the  Judge,  kissing  her  blooming  cheek. 

"  Who  is  in  great  danger  of  being  spoiled  by  the  flattery  of 
her  fond  father,"  said  Mrs.  Bernard,  smiling. 

"Dear  mother,  how  can  you  speak  so  of  an  enchanted 
knight  ?" 

"  I  will  crave  your  aid  in  the  hour  of  peril,  Sir  Knight,"  said 
Faith,  rising.  "Meantime,  accept  this  kiss  as  guerdon  for 
your  good  will." 

"  Or  retainer,"  said  the  Judge. 

Faith  left  her  friends  in  better  spirits  than  she  had  met  them. 
The  assurances  of  Judge  Bernard  had  relieved  her  mind  of  a 
weight  of  anxiety.  It  was  evident,  she  thought,  from  the  man 
ner  in  which  the  subject  was  treated  by  the  family,  that  they 
felt  no  apprehensions.  The  gaiety  of  Anne,  too,  had  not  failed 
of  its  design.  It  was,  indeed,  scarcely  possible  to  be  in  the 
presence  of  this  sw^eet  girl  without  feeling  the  charm  which,  like 
the  sun,  radiated  light  and  happiness  about  her.  It  was  the 

1* 


154  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

overflow  of  an  innocent  and  happy  heart,  and  as  natural  to  her 
as  light  to  the  sun,  or  fragrance  to  the  rose. 

Faith  found  .her  father  in  the  house  on  her  return.  She  com 
municated  to  him  what  she  had  heard,  and  asked  his  opinion. 
He  knew,  he  said,  that  while  there  were  some — probably  the 
majority — who,  regarding  Holden's  Conduct  as  only  an  impro 
priety,  would  be  disposed  to  overlook  it  ;  there  were  others 
who  would  desire  to  have  him  punished,  in  order  to  prevent  a 
repetition  of  such  scenes.  "Such,"  said  he,  "are  the  feelings  of 
the  world,  but  they  are  not  mine.  So  far  from  deserving  censure, 
Holden  is  entitled  to  all  honor  and  praise,  for  he  spoke  from 
the  inspiration  ef  conviction.  Nor,  whatever  may  be  the 
attempts  to  injure  him,  will  they  succeed.  As  St.  Paul  shook 
the  deadly  viper  from  his  hand,  so  will  this  man  rid  himself  of 
his  enemies.  There  are  more  with  him  than  against  him,  and 
the  shining  ones  are  the  stronger." 

The  confidence  of  her  father  harmonized  so  well  with  the 
hopes  of  Faith,  that  it  was  easy  to  participate  in  it,  nor  in  the 
excitement  which  she  felt,  did  his  language  seem  other  than 
proper  for  the  occasion. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  155 


CHAPTER  XY. 

See  winter  comes  to  rule  the  varied  year, 
Sullen  and  sad  with  all  his  rising  train 
Vapors  and  clouds  and  storms. 

THOMSON'S  SEASONS. 

THE  charming  poet  depicted  truthfully,  doubtless,  as  well  as 
poetically,  the  English  winter,  but  such  is  not  the  character  of 
the  season  in  New  England.  Clouds  and  storms,  indeed,  herald 
his  advent  and  attend  his  march  ;  capricious  too  his  humor  ; 
but  he  is  neither  "  sullen"  nor  "sad."  No  brighter  skies  than 
his,  whether  the  sun  with  rays  of  mitigated  warmth  but  of 
intenser  light,  sparkles  o'er  boundless  fields  of  snow,  or  whether 
the  moon,  a  faded  sun,  leading  her  festal  train  of  stars,  listens  to 
the  merry  sleigh-bells  and  the  laugh  of  girls  and  boys,  ever 
glorified  a  land.  What  though  sometimes  his  trumpet  sounds 
tremendous  and  frowns  o'erspread  his  face  !  Transient  is  his 
anger,  and  even  then  from  his  white  beard  he  shakes  a  blessing, 
to  protect  with  fleecy  covering  the  little  seeds  in  hope  entrusted 
to  the  earth,  and  to  contribute  to  the  mirth  and  sports  of  man. 

A  few  days  have  passed  since  the  occurrences  last  detailed. 
The  weather  had  gradually  become  colder  ;  the  ground  was  as 
hard  as  a  stone  ;  there  had  been  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  and  the 
streets  were  musical  with  bells.  The  snow  had  fallen  before  the 
intense  cold  commenced,  so  that  the  glassy  surface  of  the  ice 
that  bridged  the  rivers  and  lakes  was  undimrned,  and  presented 
unusual  attractions  to  the  skaters. 

It  was  on  the  afternoon  of  a  fine  day  that  the  smooth  Severn, 
hardened  into  diamond,  was  covered,  just  where  the  Yaupaae 


156  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

and  the  Wotiippocut  unite,  to  give  it  form  and  an  independent 
being,  with  a  gay  throng  of  the  people  of  the  village  of  both 
sexes.  They  were  mostly  young  persons,  consisting  principally 
ot  boys  from  school  (for  it  was  Saturday  afternoon)  with  their 
sisters.  Besides  these  were  some  young  men  and  women,  with 
here  and  there  one  more  advanced  in  years. 

It  was  a  scene  of  gaiety  and  exuberant  enjoyment.  The 
children  let  loose  from  school,  where  they  had  been  confined  all 
the  week,  put  no  bounds  to  the  loud  and  hilarious  expression  of 
their  delight,  which  the  seniors  showed  no  disposition  to  check — 
remembering  they  once  were  children — and  the  banks  of  the 
stream  rung  with  shouts  and  answering  cries  and  laughter. 
Here,  flying  round  in  graceful  curves,  a  dexterous  skater  cut  his 
name  in  the  ice  ;  there,  bands  of  noisy  boys  were  playing  tag, 
and  on  the  ringing  steel  pursuing  the  chase  ;  while  every  once 
in  a  while  down  would  tumble  some  lubberly  urchin,  or  unskill 
ful  performer,  or  new  beginner,  coming  into  harder  contact  with 
the  frozen  element  than  was  pleasant,  and  seeing  stars  in  the 
daytime,  while  bursts  of  laughter  and  ironical  invitations  to  try 
it  again,  greeted  his  misfortune.  In  another  place  were  girls  on 
small  sleighs  or  sleds,  capable  of  holding  two  or  three,  whirled 
along  by  half-a-dozen  skaters  with  great  rapidity  ;  while,  holding 
on  to  handkerchiefs,  were  others  drawn  upon  their  feet  at  less 
hazardous  speed.  Dispersed  among  the  crowd  were  little  boys 
with  flat,  tin  boxes  suspended  by  a  strap  from  their  necks,  con 
taining  molasses  candy,  whose  brittle  sweetness  appeared  to 
possess  great  attraction.  All  was  fun  and  jest,  and  laugh  and 
merriment. 

Among  others,  allured  by  the  beauty  of  the  day,  which 
though  clear  was  not  so  cold  as  to  be  uncomfortable,  to  witness 
the  sports,  were  Faith  Armstrong  and  Anne  Bernard,  escorted 
by  Pownal  and  young  Bernard.  The  cheeks  of  the  ladies  were 
crimsoned  by  the  wholesome  cold,  and  their  eyes  shone  with  a 


THE      L  0  S  T      HUNTER.  157 

brighter  lustre  than  usual,  and  many  were  the  looks  of  envy  or 
of  admiration  cast  upon  them  as  they  passed,  greeting  their 
acquaintances  and  joining  in  the  revel. 

At  the  time  when  the  little  party  arrived  there  happened  to 
be  a  circle  gathered  around  one  of  the  most  accomplished  per 
formers  to  witness  an  exhibition  of  his  skill,  and  surely  nothing 
could  be  more  graceful.  Without  sensible  effort,  and  as  if  by 
mere  volition,  he  seemed  to  glide  over  the  glossy  surface,  now 
forwards,  now  backwards,  now  sideways;  now  swiftly,  now 
slowly,  whirling  like  an  eagle  in  rapid  or  dilatory  curves, 
describing  all  the  lines  that  Euclid  ever  drew  or  imagined,  and 
cutting  such  initials  of  the  names  of  the  spectators  as  were 
desired.  The  performance,  though  hailed  with  very  general 
.expressions  of  admiration,  did  not  seem  to  give  universal  satis 
faction. 

"  He  does  pretty  well,"  said  an  elderly  man,  with  a  woollen 
scarf  or  muffler  about  his  neck  and  a  fox-skin  cap  on  his  head, 
"  He  does  it  pretty  well  ;  but,  Captain,  did  you  ever  see  Sam 
Allen  V> 

"  You  mean,"  answered  the  person  addressed,  who  was  a  man 
of  about  the  same  number  of  years,  "  Allen  who  married  old 
Peter's  daaghter,  and  afterwards  run  away.  Yes  ;  it  didn't  go 
with  him  as  slick  with  her  as  on  the  ice." 

"  Well,  she  didn't  break  her  heart  about  it.  She  got  married 
agin  as  soon  as  the  law  allowed.  I  was  in  court  when  Judge 
Trnmbull  granted  the  divorce.  'Twas  for  three  years  willful 
desartion  and  total  neglect  of  duty." 

"  No,  I  guess  she  didn't'.  She  was  published  the  very  next 
Lord's  Day,  and  got  married  in  the  evening.  She  was  a  mighty 
pretty  cretur.  Well,  I  never  see  such  a  skater  as  Sam.  This 
fellow  is  nothing  at  all  to  him.  He  don't  kind  o'  turn  his  letters 
so  nice.  Now,  there's  that  v,  you  might  mistake  it  for  a  w. 
I  like  to  see  a  man  parfect  in  his  business." 


158  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"I've  hearn  tell,"  said  the  Captain,  "though  I  never  see  it 
myself,  that  Sam  could  write  Jarman  text  as  well  as  Roman." 

"I  never  see  it,"  said  the  Fox-skin  cap,  "but  guess  it's  so. 
There  wasn't  nothing  Sam  couldn't  do  on  skates." 

"  Do  you  recollect  whether  he  used  smooth  irons  or  hollow  ?" 
inquired  the  Captain. 

"  Oh,  smooth  ;  they  ain't  so  easy  for  beginners,  but  when  a 
fellow  gits  the  knack  of  'em  they're  a  great  deal  better." 

Yery  different  from  the  remarks  of  these  laudatores  temporis 
adi,  were  those  of  the  rising  generation. 

"  How  beautiful  !"  exclaimed  Anne.  "  What  wonderful  skill  1 
Can  anything  be  more  graceful  ?" 

"  It  is,  indeed,  graceful,"  said  Faith  ;  "  and  it  must  require 
considerable  boldness  as  well  as  skill  to  venture  on  some  of 
those  evolutions.  The  least  mistake  would  cause  a  violent  fall." 

"  Dear  Faith,  why  did  you  mention  it  ?"  said  Anne.  "  I  was 
not  thinking  of  the  possibility  of  falls." 

"  Have  no  fear,"  said  Powual  ;  "he  is  too  completely  master 
of  the  science  to  hurt  himself." 

"  In  Holland  the  ladies  are  said  to  skate  as  well  as  the 
gentlemen,"  said  Bernard. 

"  That  is  a  poor  compliment,  William,"  said  Anne.  "  If  I 
cannot  skate  better  without  practice,  than  half  of  this  awkward 
squad,  I  will  never  bind  skates  on  my  feet  a  second  time." 

"  I  know  of  nothing  you  cannot  do,"  said  her  brother. 

"  Come  here,  Andrew,"  cried  Pownal,  to  a  boy  standing 
opposite  in  the  circle,  and  holding  a  pair  of  skates  in  his  hand. 
"  Come  here  and  lend  me  your  skates.  Here,  Miss  Bernard," 
said  he,  presenting  them  to  her,  "  here  is  a  fine  pair.  Allow  me 
to  buckle  them  oa.  And  then  like  a  winged  Mercury  to  fly." 

"  Please  to  compare  me  to  no  heathen  gods,  Mr.  Pownal,  or 
you  may  make  these  old  Puritans  burn  me  for  a  witch.  Let  me 
see  if  they  fit.  No,  they  are  too  large,  I  could  never  do  myself 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  159 

justice  on  them.     Here,  my  little  fellow  is  a  ninepence  for  you  ; 
away  with  you." 

The  boy  took  the  little  piece  of  silver  with  a  grin,  tied  the 
rejected  skates  upon  his  feet,  and  was  soon  lost  among  his  com 
panions. 

"  I  say,"  said  an  urchin,  who  was  looking  on  with  admiring 
eyes,  "  I  say,  Bill,  that  beats  all  natur.  Did  you  ever  see  such 
shindys  ?" 

"  They  ain't  so  bad,"  returned  Bill ;  "  but  I  guess  I  can  do 
some  of  'em  myself." 

"  Which  ones  ?"  inquired  the  other. 

"  Why,"  answered  Bill,  "  when  he  throws  himself  right  about 
face,  and  then  goes  sculling  backwards." 
.  "  I'll  bet  you  can't  do  it  the  first  time." 

"  What  will  you  bet  ?"  cried  Bill. 

"  I  don't  care  ;  say  a  stick  o'  candy." 

"  Agreed  !"  cried  Bill.     "  You  see  I've  done  it  afore." 

"  You  ought  to  told  us  that,"  said  his  companion. 

"  A  bet's  a  bet,"  said  Bill.  "  You  don't  want  to  back  out, 
do  ye  ?" 

"  G-o  ahead,'7  cried  the  other,  with  some  spirit.  "  I'll  risk  it. 
Let's  see  what  you  can  do." 

Thus  exhorted  and  defied,  Bill  commenced  preparations.  He 
first  stooped  down  on  one  knee  and  then  on  the  other,  and 
tightened  the  straps  of  the  skates  ;  next  he  took  a  handkerchief 
from  his  pocket,  and  fastened  it  tightly  around  his  waist,  and 
lastly,  moved  slowly  about  as  if  to  determine  whether  all  things 
were  as  they  should  be. 

The  spectators  who  had  overheard  the  conversation  between 
the  boys,  and  were  ready  for  any  kind  of  fun,  now  began  to 
express  interest  in  the  trial,  and  various  were  the  words  of 
encouragement  addressed  to  Bill,  as  well  as  the  mutterings  of 
doubt  over  the  result.  The  skater  who,  until  now,  had  attracted 


160  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

the  most  attention,  ceased  his  diagrams  and  approached  Bill,  in 
order  to  give  him  instructions,  notwithstanding  the  remonstrances 
of  bis  companion,  who  loudly  vociferated  it  wasn't  fair. 

"  Hold  your  yaup,"  cried  another  boy,  standing  by  ;  "  if  you 
don't  like  your  bet,  Hen  Billings,  I'll  take  it  off  your  hands." 

But  little  Billings  seemed  to  think  he  had  made  a  good  bet,  and 
although  loth  to  concede  to  Bill  any  advantage  that  did  not  of 
strict  right  belong  to  him,  was  far  from  being  disposed  to 
relinquish  it.  "Go  your  length,  Bill,"  he  said,  "I  ain't  afeard 
of  the  expense." 

The  space  being  now  cleared,  Bill  began  to  circle  round  pre 
paratory  to  the  trial.  It  was  evident  he  was  not  very  skillful, 
and  the  opinion  of  the  bystanders,  who  amused  themselves  with 
criticising  his  preliminary  performances,  was  about  equally 
divided  respecting  his  ability  to  perform  the  undertaking.  After 
a  few  turns  Bill  cried  out  : 

"  Now,  Hen,  look  out."  With  that  he  darted  forward,  until 
he  supposed  he  had  attained  the  required  momentum,  when  sud 
denly  making  a  twisting  motion  with  his  feet,  he  threw  himself 
round.  But  unfortunately  he  had  made  some  miscalculation  or 
slip,  for  instead  of  alighting  square  upon  the  skates,  his  heels 
flew  up,  and  with  a  tremendous  thump,  down  came  poor  Bill 
upon  his  back. 

"  Hurrah  !"  cried  Hen  Billings  ;  "  there  you  go,  candy  and 
all.  I  hope  you  ain't  hurt  you,"  he  said,  good  naturedly.  "  Fd 
rather  lose  my  bet  than  have  you  hurt." 

"  No,"  whined  Bill,  squirming  round  his  body,  and  rubbing 
the  back  of  his  head,  "  not  much.  What  are  you  grinning  at, 
you  monkey  ?  Did  you  never  see  a  man  fall  before  ?"  cried  he, 
shaking  his  fist  at  another  boy,  whose  face  it  seems  did  not  wear 
an  expression  of  condolence  to  suit  him.  "  I  vow  if  I  don't  try 
that  again,"  he  added,  after  having  recovered  a  little  from  the 
effects  of  his  fall. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  161 

Thereupon  space  being  again  allowed,  Bill,  with  genuine  pluck, 
tried  the  experiment  once  more,  and  this  time  with  better  for 
tune.  His  success  was  greeted  with  shouts  of  congratulation, 
and  with  expressions  of  "  true  grit,"  "  stuffy  little  fellow,"  &c., 
and  he  presently  disappeared  with  his  friend,  Hen,  in  search  of 
the  candy-merchant. 

Faith  and  Anne,  with  the  two  young  men,  had  witnessed  the 
whole  scene  with  some  interest,  and  the  different  manner  in 
which  the  girls  were  affected  was  characteristic.  Faith 
betrayed  a  lively  sensibility  when  the  boy  fell,  and  was  hardly 
restrained  from  condoling  with  him  ;  while  Anne  took  but  little 
notice  of  it,  but  exhibited  exquisite  delight  at  his  courage  and 
final  success.  But  something  else  now  attracted  their  attention. 
A  shout  was  raised,  and  exclamations  were  heard  of  "  There 
comes  the  ice-boat  ;  there  comes  Grant's  ice-boat." 

Turning  round,  they  beheld  what  had  the  appearance  of  a 
boat  under  sail,  flying  round  the  promontory  of  Okommake- 
misit.  A  slight  breeze  was  drawing  up  the  stream,  and  before 
its  favoring  breath,  the  little  vessel,  or  whatever  else  it  might  be 
called,  advanced  with  great  rapidity.  In  a  few  moments  it  had 
reached  them,  and  with  a  sharp  grating  sound  as  of  iron  cut 
ting  into  ice,  came  suddenly  to  a  stop,  and  the  persons  gather 
ing  round  had  an  opportunity  to  examine  it.  It  was  the  work 
of  a  village  genius,  and  consisted  of  some  boards,  cut  in  an 
elliptical  form  (as,  perhaps,  the  most  convenient),  supported  by 
two  pieces  of  iron,  parallel  to  each  other,  to  which  the  boards 
were  fastened,  and  running  the  whole  length  from  bow  to  stern. 
In  the  forward  part  was  rigged  a  mast,  to  which  was  attached  a 
sail,  like  the  mainsail  of  a  sloop,  and  the  whole  was  controlled 
by  a  piece  of  sharp  iron,  fixed  on  the  stern  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  turn  like  a  rudder,  and  to  cut  with  any  required  degree  of 
pressure,  by  means  of  a  lever,  into  the  ice.  With  this  simple 


162  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

regulator  it  was  made  perfectly  safe,  being  stopped  as  readily, 
and  on  the  same  principle,  as  a  skater  arrests  his  course. 

Grant,  to  whom  Pownal  and  Bernard  were  both  known, 
invited  the  little  party  to  take  a  sail  with  him,  assuring  them 
there  was  no  danger.  The  invitation  was  at  once  accepted  by 
Miss  Bernard,  though  the  more  timid  Faith  hesitated,  and  the 
four  took  their  seats.  The  group  of  persons,  as  before  observed, 
were  at  the  head  of  the  Severn,  and  the  wind  was  drawing  up 
the  river,  it  was,  therefore,  necessary,  to  beat  against  the  wind 
at  starting.  To  the  surprise,  in  particular  of  the  ladies,  this 
was  done  with  the  most  perfect  ease,  the  vessel,  on  her  sharp 
runners,  making  but  little  lee-way,  and  obeying  her  helm  more 
readily  than  any  boat  in  water.  Indeed,  obedience  was  instan 
taneous.  She  whirled  round  as  quickly  as  one  could  turn  one's 
hand,  requiring  promptness  and  presence  of  mind  in  the  steers 
man.  Thus,  like  a  bird,  with  smooth  and  equable  motion,  she 
flew  with  her  delighted  passengers,  in  many  a  zig-zag,  down  the 
Severn,  until  they  had  gone  as  far  as  desired,  when  round  she 
spun,  and  before  the  breeze,  houses,  and  men,  and  trees,  gliding 
by  as  in  a  race,  dashed  up  to  the  starting  point. 

Upon  leaving  the  ice-boat,  the  eyes  of  Pownal  discovered  the 
tall  form  of  Holdeu,  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  persons  whom 
he  appeared  to  be  addressing  ;  and  upon  his  mentioning  the  cir 
cumstance  to  the  others,  it  was  proposed  to  join  him.  Accord 
ingly,  they  added  themselves  to  his  audience.  Several  large 
baskets  were  lying  near  him  on  the  ice,  and  so  engaged  was  he 
in  his  subject  that  he  took  no  notice  of  the  approach  of  his  four 
young  friends.  The  address  was  not  without  a  burst  or  two  of 
eloquence,  springing  out  of  the  intense  conviction  of  the 
speaker,  and  was  listened  to  respectfully  enough.  Not  that  a 
convert  was  made  ;  not  that  there  was  a  person  present  who  did 
not  regard  his  notions  as  the  hallucinations  of  a  disturbed  intel- 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  163 

lect,  but  a  part  of  the  by-standers  esteemed  and  respected  him 
as  a  man  of  noble  and  generous  disposition,  lavish  of  his  small 
means  towards  those  whom  he  considered  poorer  than  himself, 
and  never  faltering  in  any  act  of  kindness  on  account  of  hard 
ship  or  privation  ;  while  the  rest,  as  already  intimated,  felt  a 
sort  of  awe  in  his  presence  from  the  mystery  that  surrounded 
him.  Among  the  spectators  was  our  old  friend,  Tom  Gladding, 
leisurely  engaged  in  whittling  out  a  chain  from  a  pine  block, 
some  twelve  inches  in  length,  from  which  he  had  succeeded  in 
obtaining  three  or  four  links  that  dangled  at  its  end,  and  listen 
ing  with  a  comical  expression,  as  if  he  were  anticipating  some 
fun. 

The  Enthusiast  had  hardly  concluded  his  exhortation  before 
Basset,  who  stood  on  the  outside  of  the  ring  during  its  delivery, 
stepped  forward,  and  placing  his  hand  on  Holden's  shoulder, 
informed  him  he  was  his  prisoner.  Holden  made  no  resistance, 
but  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  fastening  his  eyes 
sternly  on  the  constable,  he  demanded  : 

"What  art  thou  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Barnabas  Basset,"  answered  the  constable,  a 
little  embarrassed. 

"  I  care  not  for  thy  name,"  said  Holden,  "  but  by  what 
authority  darcst  thou  to  lay  thy  hand  on  a  free  man  ?" 

"  By  authority  of  the  State  of  Connecticut,"  replied  the  con- 
' stable,  recovering  from  his  momentary  confusion,  and  feeling 
quite  safe  in  the  crowd.  "It's  true,  I  hain't  got  my  staff,  but 
everybody's  bound,  according  to  law,  to  know  the  constable." 

11  And,  wherefore,  is  an  innocent  man  to  be  treated  as  a 
malefactor  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  about  the  innocence,"  said  Basset,  "  and  it's 
none  of  my  business.  You  must  talk  to  the  justice  about  that. 
All  I've  got  to  do  is  to  execute  my  warrant  according  to  law." 

"It  is    written,  resist  not    evil,"   said    Holden,   musingly. 


164  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"  Behold,  I  am  in  thy  hands  ;  do  with  me  what  thou  wili 
est." 

But  some  of  the  spectators  appeared  indisposed  to  be  so 
passive.  Pownal  and  Bernard  walked  up  to  the  constable,  and 
demanded  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  outrage. 

•"  You  may  just  call  it  what  you  please,  Mr.  Pownal," 
answered  Basset,  indignant  at  being  interfered  with,  as  he 
called  it,  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  "  and  I  advise  you  not  to 
git  your  fingers  catched  in  the  law  ;  but  if  you  must  know,  the 
justice,  1  guess,  will  tell  you." 

"  Keep  your  advice  until  it  is  asked  for,"  said  Pownal  ;  "but 
before  what  justice  are  you  taking  him  ?" 

"  If  you  come  with  us,  you'll  find  out,"  answered  Basset, 
whose  ill  nature  seemed  to  increase. 

"  That  I  certainly  will.  I  must  leave  you,  said  Pownal,  turn 
ing  to  the  ladies,  "to  see  that  this  brutal  fellow  behaves 
himself." 

"  Do,"  cried  Faith  ;  "  do  not  let  them  insult  him." 

"  Let  us  go  with  him,"  said  the  impulsive  Anne. 

"  You  would  make  a  fine  appearance  in  a  justice  court,"  said 
her  brother.  "No,  I  will  see  you  home,  and  afterwards  join 
Pownal." 

But  an  occurrence  now  happened  which  made  any  such 
arrangement  unnecessary.  Tom  Gladding,  who  all  this  while 
had  been  quietly  whittling  out  his  chain  and  listening  to  the 
conversation,  here  interposed  : 

"  Basset,"  he  said,  "  you  hain't  showed  your  warrant." 

"  It's  all  safe  enough,"  cried  the  constable,  striking  his  hand 
on  his  pocket. 

"Well,  if  that's  the  case  you're  safe  enough,  too,"  said  Tom, 
as  if  not  disposed  to  press  an  inquiry. 

But  the  hint  had  answered  its  purpose,  and  several  voices 
demanded  the  exhibition  of  the  warrant,  to  which  the  constable 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  165 

replied,  that  it  was  none  of  their  business  ;  he  knew  what  he 
was  about. 

Contrary,  however,  to  what  might  have  been  expected  from 
his  former  submission,  the  prisoner  required  to  see  the  written 
authority  by  which  he  was  to  be  consigned  to  bonds,  and 
refused  to  move  until  it  had  been  shown,  in  which  determination 
he  was  sustained  by  the  bystanders.  Thus  unexpectedly 
resisted,  the  constable  had  no  alternative  but  to  release  Holden 
or  produce  the  instrument.  He,  therefore,  put  his  hand  into  his 
pocket,  and  pulling  out  a  number  of  papers,  sought  for  the 
document.  It  was  in  vain  ;  no  warrant  was  to  be  found  ;  and, 
after  repeatedly  shuffling  the  papers,  he  exclaimed  :  "  I  declare 
I  must  have  lost  it." 

Whether  he  discovered  the  loss  then  for  the  first  time,  or  what 
is  far  more  probable,  did  not  anticipate  its  demand  from  one  so 
flighty  as  Holden,  and  meant  to  procure  one  afterwards,  is  not 
certainly  known,  but  the  fact  is  certain,  he  had  no  written 
authority  to  arrest. 

"You  never  had  one.  Is  this  the  way  you  treat  a  free 
American  ?  You  desarve  a  ducking  ;  you  had  better  make 
tracks,"  exclaimed  several  indignant  voices  from  the  crowd, 
with  whom  a  constable  cannot  be  a  popular  character. 

"  It's  my  opinion,"  said  the  man  in  the  fox  skin  cap,  "Basset 
has  made  himself  liable  for  assault  and  battery.  What  do  you 
think,  Captain  ?" 

"  I  ain't  clear  on  that  point,"  returned  his  cautious  compa 
nion,  "but  free  trade  and  sailors'  rights,  I  say,  and  I've  no 
notion  of  a  man's  being  took  without  law.  I'm  clear  so  far." 

The  discomfited  constable  not  venturing  to  proceed,  and, 
indeed,  unable  to  conceive  how,  without  Holden's  assent,  he  could 
take  him  before  the  justice,  now  relinquished  his  prey,  and 
endeavored  to  make  his  way  out  of  the  circle.  Hereupon  an 
agitation'  arose,  none  could  say  how,  the  persons  composing  it 


166  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

began  to  be  swayed  backwards  and  forwards  in  a  strange  man 
ner,  and  somehow  or  other  poor  Basset's  heels  got  tripped  up, 
and  before  he  could  rise,  several  men  and  boys  fell  over  him  and 
crushed  him  with  their  weight,  so  that  when  he  became  visible  in 
the  heap,  he  presented  a  most  pitiable  appearance.  His  coat  was 
torn,  his  neckerchief  twisted  so  tight  about  his  neck,  that  he  was 
half  choked,  and  his  hat  jammed  out  of  all  shape.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  he  would  have  escaped  so  cheaply,  had  it  not  been  for 
Gladding,  who,  after  he  thought  Basset  had  suffered  sufficiently, 
came  to  his  assistance. 

"  I  always  stand  by  the  law,"  said  Tom,  helping  him  to  his 
feet,  "  but  I  admire  your  imprudence,  Basset,  in  trying  to  take 
up  a  man  without  a  warrant." 

Basset's  faculties  were  too  confused  to  enter  into  a  discussion 
of  the  subject  then,  and  with  many  threats  of  taking  the  law 
against  his  tormentors,  and,  attended  by  Tom,  he  limped  off  the 
ice. 

Loud  and  boisterous  were  the  congratulations  with  which  the 
crowd  had  greeted  Holden  on  his  escape  from  the  clutches  of 
the  constable,  but  he  waved  them  off  with  a  dignity  which 
repressed  their  advances,  and  gave  some  offence. 

"  If  I'd  known  the  old  fellow  was  so  proud,"  said  one,  "  I 
guess  Basset  might  have  taken  him  for  all  I  cared." 

"  I  sort  o'  sprained  my  wrist  in  that  last  jam  agin  the  con 
stable,"  said  another,  laughing,  "  and  it's  eeii  about  as  good  as 
thrown  away." 

"  Perhaps,"  cried  a  third,  "  when  he's  took  agin,  I'll  be  there 
to  help,  and  perhaps  I  won't." 

While  these  various  speeches  were  being  made,  the  young 
men  with  the  ladies,  had  gathered  around  Holden,  and  were 
expressing  their  mortification  at  the  annoyance  he  had  expe 
rienced,  and  their  pleasure  at  his  escape. 

"  Why  do  the  heathen  rage,  and  the  people  imagine  a  vain 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  161 

thing  ?"  cried  the  enthusiast.  "  Surely  their  devices  shall  be 
brought  to  naught,  and  their  counsels  to  no  effect.  He  that  sit- 
teth  on  the  circle  of  the  heavens  shall  laugh  them  to  scorn,  and 
spurn  them  in  His  displeasure.  Because  for  Thy  sake,  I  have 
borne  reproach  ;  shame  hath  covered  my  face.  I  am  become  a 
stranger  unto  my  brethren,  and  an  alien  unto  my  mother's 
children." 

He  waited  for  no  remark  ;  he  looked  at  no  one  ;  but  taking 
up  the  pile  of  baskets  which  were  tied  together,  threw  them 
upon  his  back,  and  stalked  over  the  ice  in  the  direction  of  his 
cabin. 

On  their  way  home  the  young  people  discussed  the  events 
of  the  afternoon,  dwelling  on  the  meeting  with  Holden  as 
on  that  which  most  occupied  their  minds. 

"It  is  with  a  painful  interest,"  said  Pownal,  "  that  I  meet 
the  old  man,  nor  can  I  think  of  him  without  a  feeling  of  more 
than  common  regard.  I  am  sure  it  is  not  merely  because 
he  was  lately  of  so  great  service  to  me,  that  I  cannot  listen  to 
the  tones  of  his  voice  without  emotion.  There  is  in  them  a  wild 
melancholy,  like  the  sighing  of  the  wind  through  pine  trees, 
that  affects  me  more  than  I  can  describe." 

"  I  know  the  feeling,77  said  Faith.  "  There  is  to  me  also  a 
strange  pathos  in  his  voice  that  brings  the  tears  sometimes  into 
iny  eyes  before  I  am  aware.  What  is  the  cause,  I  do  not  know. 
I  never  heard  it  spoken  of  till  now,  and  did  not  suppose  there 
was  another  affected  like  myself.77 

"You  are  a  couple  of  romantic,  silly  things,77  cried  Anne. 
"  I  flatter  myself  there  is  some  poetry  in  me,  but  it  takes  a 
different  shape.  Now,  when  I  see  Father  Holden,  I  begin  to 
think  of  Jeremiah  and  Zachariah,  and  all  the  old  prophets, 
but  with  no  disposition  to  cry.'7 

"Tears  were  never  meant  to  dim  those  blue  eyes,  dear 
Anne,77  said  Faith. 


168  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

*» 

Dogberry. — You  are  thought  here  to  be  the  most  senseless  and  fit  man  for  the  con 
stable  of  the  watch ;  therefore,  bear  you  the  lantern.    This  is  your  charge ;  you  shall 

comprehend  all  vagrom  men. 

MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 

IT  may  well  be  supposed  that  the  misadventures  on  the  ice 
were  ill  calculated  to  soothe  the  excited  mind  of  the  constable. 
He  bore  a  grudge  towards  the  Solitary  before,  for  his  failure 
and  the  beating  he  had  received  at  the  island,  and  now  to  be 
made  the  object  of  such  abuse  in  the 'presence  of  his  townsmen, 
and  that  on  account  of  a  person  whom  he  looked  down  upon  as 
a  sort  of  vagrant,  was  more  than  his  philosophy  could  bear. 
For  Basset,  with  that  kind  of  logic  which  is  so  common  with  a 
certain  class  of  people,  could  not  avoid  regarding  the  Recluse  as 
the  culpable  cause  of  his  misfortune  in  both  instances.  "If  he 
hadn't  gone  agin  the  law,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  shouldn't  have 
tried  to  take  him  ;  and  if  I  hadn't  tried  to  take  him,  I  shouldn't 
have  been  treated  so."  Whatever  Hedge  or  Mills  may  think  of 
such  logic,  it  was  satisfactory  to  Basset. 

His  lucubrations,  moreover,  were  very  different  in  the  daytime 
from  those  in  the  solemn  shades  of  night.  As  ghosts  are  said 
to  disappear  when  they  scent  the  morning  air,  so  the  constable's 
apprehensions  of  them  fled  at  the  rising  of  the  sun.  When  in 
the  dark  at  the  island  he  received  the  blow  that  prostrated  him 
on  the  earth,  he  was  unable  to  determine  in  his  confusion,  whether 
it  had  been  inflicted  by  the  fisherman's  ghost  or  by  Holden.  It 
never  crossed  his  mind  that  it  might  have  come  from  any  one 
else.  On  this  subject  he  had  mused  during  the  whole  time  of 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  169 

his  return  from  his  nocturnal  disaster,  without  being  able  to 
arrive  at  any  conclusion.  If  in  those  witching  hours,  when  the 
stars  gleamed  mysteriously  through  the  drifting  clouds,  and  the 
wind  moaned  among  the  bare  branches,  he  was  inclined  to  one 
opinion  rather  than  to  another,  it  was  to  that  which  would 
attribute  the  blow  to  the  ghost.  But  with  the  light  of  return 
ing  day  the  current  of  his  thoughts  changed.  Things  assumed 
an  altered  aspect.  Fears  of  inhabitants  of  an  unseen  world 
vanished,  and  Basset  was  angry  at  himself  for  entertaining  such 
silly  imaginations.  It  was  now  evident  that  Holden  by  some 
means  had  obtained  a  knowledge  of  the  design  to  capture  him, 
or  had  suspected  it,  or  had  noticed  the  approach  of  the  boat  and 
laid  in  wait  to  take  a  most  unjustifiable  revenge.  "  I  wish  I 
could  prove  it,"  thought  Basset;  "if  I  wouldn't  make  him 
smart  for  striking  an  officer  1" 

We  shall  not  be  surprised  to  find  that  the  constable  feeling 
thus,  provided  himself  with  another  warrant.  Smarting  under 
a  sense  of  injury,  both  as  a  man  and  a  baffled  administrator  of 
the  law,  he  had  immediately  sought  the  Justice,  revealed  the 
loss  of  the  instrument,  and  procured  another.  Upon  returning 
to  the  river,  where  he  hoped  to  triumph  in  the  presence  of  those 
who  had  witnessed  his  disgrace,  over  one  whom  he  now  regarded 
as  an  enemy,  he  found  to  his  infinite  mortification  that  the  bird 
had  flown.  He  dared  not  follow  alone,  and  meditating  ven 
geance,  he  kept  the  fatal  document  safely  deposited  in  his 
pocket-book,  where  "  in  grim  repose  "  it  waited  for  a  favorable 
opportunity  and  its  prey. 

On  the  following  Monday  morning,  the  constable  met  Glad 
ding  in  the  street,  whom  he  had  not  seen  since  the  latter  assisted 
him  on  the  ice. 

"How  are  you?"  cried  Tom,  seizing  him  by  the  hand,  and 
affecting  the  greatest  pleasure  at  the  meeting  ;  "  how  do  you 
feel  after  your  row,  friend  Basset  ?" 

8 


170 


THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


"  Oh,  pretty  well,"  answered  the  constable  ;  "how  is  it  with 
you  ?" 

"Alive  and  kicking,"  said  Tom.  "But,  Basset,  you  hain't 
got  the  dents  out  o'  your  hat,  I  see." 

"  No,  and  I  don't  expect  they  ever  will  come  out.  It's  good 
as  two  dollars  damage  to  me,"  he  added,  taking  off  the  hat  and 
looking  at  it  with  a  woeful  face.  You're  a  little  to  blame  for 
it,  too,  Tom." 

"  Me  !  You  ongrateful  critter,"  exclaimed  Gladding,  indig 
nantly.  "  You  want  me  to  give  you  a  new  hat,  don't  ye  ?" 

"  What  made  you  ask  if  I'd  got  the  warrant  ?" 

"  I  never  said  no  such  a  thing.  I  only  said  sort  o'  promiscu 
ously,  you  hadn't  showed  your  document." 

"Well,  what  was  the  use  o'  that?  If  you'd  kept  still  there 
wouldn't  been  no  fuss." 

"  Who'd  ha'  thought  you'd  ha'  gone  to  take  a  man  without 
being  able  to  show  your  authority?  Now  I  call  that  plaguy 
green,  Basset.  But  who  stood  by  you  when  everybody  else 
desarted  you,  and  got  you  out  from  under  them  rough  boys,  and 
helped  you  clean  out  o'  the  scrape  ?  Darn  it  all,  Basset,  your'e 
the  ongratefullest  varmint  I  ever  did  see,  when,  in  a  manner,  I 
saved  your  life.  Really,  I  did  think,  instead  o'  blowing  a  fellow 
up  in  this  way,  you'd  a  stood  treat." 

"  So  I  will,"  said  Basset,  who  began  to  fancy  he  had  found 
too  much  fault,  and  was  unwilling  to  lose  his  ally  ;  "  so  come 
along  into  Jenkins',  and  we'll  take  it  on  the  spot.  But  you 
must  give  in,  Tom,  your  observation  was  unfortunate." 

"Unfortunate  for  you,"  returned  Tom  ;  "but  I  guess  Holden 
thought  'twasn't  unfortunate  for  him.  Howsomever,  you'll  let 
the  old  fellow  slip  now,  won't  you  ?" 

"  Let  him  slip  !"  almost  screamed  the  exasperated  Basset, 
whom  Tom's  manner  of  treating  the  subject  was  not  calculated 
to  mollify.  "  Let  him  slip,  you  say.  I'll  see  him,  I'll  see  him  » 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  1U 

— but  in  vain  he  sought  words  to  express  the  direful  purpose  ; 
language  broke  down  under  the  effort. 

"Poh,  poh,"  said  Tom,  "  don't  take  on  sofman — forget  and 
forgive — luck's  been  on  his  side,  that's  all." 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Basset,  "  who  do  you  think  struck 
me  the  other  night  ?" 

"  Why,  what  could  it  be  but  Lanfear's  ghost  ?" 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  about  sperits  ;  whose  afraid  o'  them  ? 
But  tell  us  one  thing,  did  you  see  Holden  when  you  looked  into 
the  window  !" 

"  What  makes  you  ask  ?"  said  the  cautious  Tom,  "  supposing 
I  did,  or  supposing  I  didn't  ?" 

"  'Cause  I  know  you  didn't.  Now  it's  my  opinion,"  said 
Basset,  lowering  his  voice  and  looking  round  suspiciously  as  if 
he  were  afraid  of  an  action  for  slander  should  he  be  overheard, 
"that  Holden  himself  made  the  assault." 

"That  ain't  possible,"  said  Gladding,  confidently.  "You 
and  Prime  stood  by  the  door  and  would  ha'  seen  him  if  he'd 
come  out  there,  am^  I  know  he  didn't  jump  out  o'  the  window, 
for  I  should  ha'  seen  him." 

"  But,  perhaps  he  wasn't  in  the  house  at  all,"  persisted 
Basset  ;  "  it  was  plaguy  dark,  and  perhaps  he  heard  us 
coming  and  hid  himself  outside  on  purpose  to  play  the  trick  and 
take  an  unfair  advantage  on  us." 

"  You'll  never  make  me  believe  that  story,"  said  Gladding, 
shaking  his  head.  "I'd  as  soon  believe  it  was  me  as  the  old 
man.  Prime  and  me  are  of  the  same  opinion,  and  we  should 
both  be  witnesses  agin  you." 

The  two,  at  this  stage  of  the  conversation,  reached  the  door 
of  the  grocer's  shop,  into  which  we  will  not  follow  them,  but 
turn  our  attention  elsewhere. 

Meanwhile,  the  cause  of  all  this  excitement  was  quietly  pur 
suing  the  ordinary  tenor  of  his  life.  It  will  have  been  observed 


172  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

that  when  Basset  attempted  to  arrest  him,  Holden  did  not 
even  inquire  with  what  offence  he  was  charged,  unless  demanding 
the  production  of  the  warrant  may  be  considered  so,  and  that 
upon  the  constable  relinquishing  his  purpose,  he  turned  away 
without  giving  any  attention  to  the  observations  addressed  to 
him.  It  is  not  probable  that  his  design  was  to  avoid  the  service 
of  process,  all  unconscious  as  he  was  of  any  violation  of  the  laws 
of  the  State  ;  and  certain  it  is  he  made  not  the  slightest  differ 
ence  in  his  habits.  As  before,  he  pursued  his  occupation  of 
basket-making  at  his  hut  and  his  recreations  of  fishing  and 
strolling  through  the  woods,  as  though  no  such  formidable 
character  as  Basset  was  in  existence.  If  he  did  not  appear  in 
the  village  it  was  an  accidental  circumstance,  it  being  only  at 
irregular  intervals  that  he  ever  made  his  appearance  there. 
Thus,  then,  passed  a  week  longer  ;  the  petulant  constable  on  the 
watch,  and  the  steady  malignity  of  Davenport  gradually  becom 
ing  impatient  for  gratification.  But  the  little  drama  had  a 
course  of  its  own  to  run. 

One  morning  Primus  saw  the  tall  figure  of  Holden  passing 
his  cabin.  The  veteran  was  at  the  window  smoking  his  pipe 
when  the  Recluse  first  came  in  sight.  A  secret  must  have 
been  very  closely  kept,  indeed,  in  the  village,  not  to  come  to  his 
ears,  and  the  warlike  equipment  and  intentions  of  Basset  were 
well  known  to  him.  "  Dere  he  come,"  said  the  negro  to  himself, 
"jist  like  a  fly  flying  into  de  spider-web.  I  guess  I  gib  him 
warning."  With  this  benevolent  intention,  Primus  went  to  the 
door,  and  as  Holden  approached,  addressed  him  with  the  saluta 
tion  of  the  morning.  It  was  courteously  acknowledged,  and  the 
General  commenced  as  if  he  wished  to  engage  in  a  conversation. 
"  Beautiful  wedder  dis  marning,  Missa  Holden." 
"  Old  man,  thy  days  are  too  short  to  be  wasted  in  chattering 
about  the  weather,"  said  Holden.  "  Speak,  if  thou  hast  aught 
to  say." 


THE    LOST    HUNTER.  13 

The  General's  attempt  at  familiarity  was  effectually  checked, 
and  he  felt  somewhat  chagrined  at  the  reply  ;  but  for  all  that 
he  would  not  give  up  his  friendly  purpose. 

"  Dey  say,"  he  said,  with  military  precision;  "  dat  de  Con 
stable  Basset  hab  a  warrant  agin  Missa  Holden." 

"  Thanks,  Primus,"  said  Holden,  resuming  his  walk,  "  but  I 
fear  the  face  of  no  man." 

"De  obstinate  pusson  !"  exclaimed  the  negro.  "  And  den  to 
talk  about  my  short  day  !  Dat  is  bery  onpleasant.  Short 
day,  Missa  Holden,  eh  ?  Not  as  you  knows  on.  I  can  tell  you 
dis  child  born  somewhere  about  de  twenty  ob  June  (at  any  rate 
de  wedder  was  warm),  and  mean  to  lib  accordingly.  Oh,  you 
git  out,  Missa  Holden  !  Poor  parwarse  pusson  !  What  a  pity 
he  hab  no  suspect  for  de  voice  ob  de  charmer  !  I  always  hear," 
he  added,  chuckling,  in  that  curious,  mirth-inspiring  way  so 
peculiar  to  the  blacks,  "  dat  de  black  snake  know  how  to  charm 
best,  but  all  sign  fail  in  dry  wedder,  and  de  pan  flash  in  de 
powder  dis  time." 

Holden  paid  not  the  least  regard  to  the  information.  Accord 
ing  to  his  system  of  fatalism  he  would  have  considered  it  beyond 
his  power  to  alter  the  predetermined  course  of  things,  but  it  is 
not  probable  that  his  mind  dwelt  upon  the  thought  of  personal 
security.  He  went  straight  forward  to  the  village,  calling  at 
places  where  he  thought  he  would  most  likely  find  customers 
for  his  wares,  and  in  no  respect  avoiding  public  observation. 
He  had  sold  his  baskets,  and  was  on  his  return  to  the  river, 
over  whose  frozen  surface  lay  his  road  home,  when  he  beheld  a 
scene  that  solicited  his  attention  and  arrested  his  steps. 

It  was  an  Indian  burial.  Holden  in  his  round  had  strolled 
as  far  as  the  piece  of  table  land,  of  which  mention  was  made  in 
the  first  chapter,  to  a  distance  of  nearly  a  mile  from  the  head  of 
the  Severn,  and  was  at  the  moment  opposite  a  spot  reserved 
by  the  tribe,  of  which  a  small  number  were  lingering  in  the 


174  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

neighborhood,  as  the  revered  resting-place  of  the  bones  of  their 
ancestors,  whence  they  themselves  hoped  to  start  for  the  happy 
hunting  grounds.  It  was  a  place  of  singular  beauty,  selected 
apparently  with  'a  delicate  appreciation  of  the  loveliness  of  the 
scenery,  for  nowhere  else  in  the  vicinity  was  there  so  attractive 
a  combination  of  hill  and  dale,  and  woodand  water,  to  compose 
a  landscape. 

The  little  burying-ground,  shorn  of  its  original  dimensions  by 
the  encroachments  of  the  fatal  race  that  came  from  the  rising 
sun,  contained  less  than  half  an  acre,  and  was  situated  at  the 
top  of  a  ravine,  running  down  from  the  level  land,  on  which  the 
gravestones  were  erected,  to  the  Yaupaae,  where  that  river 
expands  itself  into  a  lake.  The  sides  of  the  ravine,  along  its 
whole  sweep  upwards,  was  covered  quite  to  the  top  with  immense 
oaks  and  chestnuts,  the  growth  of  centuries,  interspersed  with 
ash  trees,  while  in  the  colder  and  moister  part  in  the  centre, 
the  smooth-barked  birch  threw  out  its  gnarled  brandies.  There 
was  no  undergrowth,  and  under  and  between  the  limbs  of  the 
trees,  the  eye  caught  a  view  towards  the  south  of  the  widened 
Yaupaae  and  of  the  islands  that  dotted  its  surface,  with  hills 
sweeping  round  in  a  curve,  and  presenting  an  irregular  outline 
like  that  made  by  the  backs  of  a  school  of  porpoises.  Towards 
the  three  other  quarters  of  the  compass,  a  level  plain  extended 
for  a  short  distance,  and  then  was  broken  up  into  an  undulating 
surface  which  rose  into  eminences  covered  with  woods  that 
hemmed  in  the  whole.  The  falls  of  the  Yanpaae  were  at  a  dis 
tance  of  only  a  few  rods,  but  invisible,  being  hidden  by  the  plain 
that  occupied  the  intervening  space,  at  an  elevation  of  some 
forty  feet  higher  than  the  point  where  the  river,  rushing  down 
its  rocky  bed,  made  its  presence  known  by  a  ceaseless  roar,  and 
seemed  to  chant  a  dirge  over  the  vanished  greatness  of  the 
tribe. 

Here  were  assembled  some  sixty  or  seventy  Indians  to  per- 


THE    LOST      HUNTER..  175 

form  the  rights  of  sepulture  to  one  of  their  number.  No  vestige 
of  their  original  wildness  was  to  be  traced  among  them.  They 
were  clothed  in  the  garments  of  civilization,  but  of  a  coarse  and 
mean  quality,  and  appeared  broken  down  and  dispirited.  One 
half,  at  least,  were  women,  and  at  the  moment  of  which  we  are 
speaking  they  were  collecting  together  from  among  the  blue 
slate  gravestones,  where  they  had  been  dispersed,  around  a  newly 
dug  grave.  The  rites  were  of  a  Christian  character,  and  per 
formed  by  an  elder  of  oneV)f  the  neighboring  churches,  who 
offered  up  a  prayer,  on  the  conclusion  of  which  he  retired.  The 
grave  was  immediately  filled,  and  then  commenced  a  ceremony  of 
a  singular  character. 

At  a  given  signal  the  assembled  company  began  with  slow 
and  measured  steps,  and  in  silence,  to  encircle  the  grave.  It 
must  have  been  a  custom  peculiar  to  the  tribe,  at  least  we  do 
not  recollect  seeing  it  alluded  to  by  any  traveller  or  describer 
of  Indian  manners,  and  consisted  in  walking  one  after  the  other 
around  the  grave,  in  the  manner  called  Indian  file,  and  recount 
ing  the  good  qualities  of  the  departed ;  nor  was  it  considered 
permissible  to  leave  until  something  had  been  said  in  his  praise. 
The  Indians  walked  round  and  round  in  unbroken  silence,  each 
one  modestly  waiting,  as.it  seemed  at  first,  for  another  to  speak. 
But  no  one  begun,  and  it  soon  became  evident  that  some  other 
«ause  than  modesty  restrained  their  speech.  Thus,  with  down 
cast  eyes,  or  casting  side  long  glances  at  each  other,  as  in  expec 
tation  of  the  wished-for  eulogy,  and  with  the  deepest  gravity, 
they  followed  round  and  round,  but  still  with  sealed  lips.  The 
defunct  must  have  been  a  strange  being  to  deserve  no  commen 
dation.  Could  it  be  ?  Did  he  possess  no  one  good  quality  by 
which  he  could  be  remembered  ?  Had  he  never  done  a  kind 
act  ?  Could  he  not  hunt,  or  fish,  or  make  baskets,  or  plant 
corn,  or  beans,  or  potatoes  ?  Surely  he  must  have  been  able  to 
do  something.  Had  it  never  happened  that  he  did  some  good 


176  THE      LOST    HUNTER. 

by  mistake  ?  Perhaps  that  would  answer  the  purpose.  Or  had 
he  been  the  mere  shape  and  appearance  of  a  man,  and  nothing 
more  ?  He  had  vanished  like  a  shadow  ;  was  he  as  unsubstan 
tial  ?  Were  they  not  mistaken  in  supposing  he  had  lived  among 
them  I  Had  he  been  a  dream  ? 

Confused  thoughts  like  these  passed  through  the  simple  minds 
of  the  rude  race,  as  with  tired  steps  they  followed  one  another 
in  that  weary  round.  But  was  there  to  be  no  cessation  of  those 
perpetual  gyrations  ?  Yet  no  gesture,  no  devious  step  betrayed 
impatience.  On  they  went,  as  if  destined  to  move  thus  for  ever. 
Looks  long  and  earnest  began  now  to  be  cast  upon  the  new-made 
hillock,  as  if  striving  to  draw  inspiration  thence,  or  reproaching 
its  tenant  with  his  unworthiness.  No  inspiration  came,  and 
gradually  the  steps  became  slower  and  more  languid,  yet 
still  the  measured  tread  went  on.  A  darker  and  darker  cloud 
settled  on  their  weary  faces,  but  they  could  not  stop  ;  the  duty 
was  too  sacred  to  remain  unfulfilled.  They  could  not  lea've  with 
out  a  word  to  cheer  their  friend  upon  his  way,  and  yet  the  word 
came  not.  When  would  some  one  speak  ?  Who  would  relieve 
them  from  the  difficulty  ?  At  length  the  countenance  of  an  old 
squaw  lighted  up,  and  in  low  tones  she  said,  "  He  was  a  bery 
good  smoker."  The  welcome  words  wej'e  instantly  caught  up  by 
all,  and  with  renewed  strength  each  one  moved  on,  and  rejoicing 
at  the  solution  of  the  dilemma,  exclaimed,  "  He  was  a  bery 
good  smoker."  The  charm  had  taken  effect  ;  the  word  of  affec 
tionate  remembrance  was  spoken  ;  the  duty  performed  ;  and 
each  with  an  approving  conscience  could  now  return  home. 

What  thin  partitions  divide  the  mirthful  from  the  mournful, 
the  sublime  from  the  ridiculous  !  At  the  wedding  we  weep,  and 
at  the  funeral  we  can  smile. 

Holden  who  had  been  standing  with  folded  arms  leaning 
against  the  rail  fence  that  enclosed  the  yard,  and  contemplating 
the  ceremonies  till  the  last  Indian  departed,  now  turned  to  leave, 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  I7t 

when  the  constable  with  a  paper  in  one  hand  approached,  and 
touching  Holden  with  the  other,  told  him  he  was  his  prisoner. 
The  Solitary  asked  no  questions,  but  waving  his  hand  to  the 
constable  to  advance,  followed  him  in  silence. 


178  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XYII. 

"  If  it  please  your  honor,  I  am  the  poor  duke's  constable,  and  my  name  is  Elbow.  I  do 
lean  upon  justice,  sir,  and  do  bring  in  here  before  your  good  honor  two  notorious  benefac 
tors." 

MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 

THE  efforts  of  the  Solitary's  friends  to  ward  off  the  blow  were 
unavailing,  and  the  perseverance  of  the  constable  was  crowned 
with  success.  Of  course  it  was  impossible  for  Holden  to  walk 
through  the  streets  of  Hillsdale  with  such  a  companion  without 
attracting  observation.  Long  before  he  reached  the  office,  where 
he  was  to  have  his  trial,  a  crowd  of  idle  boys  was  gathered  at 
his  heels,  attending  in  a  sort  of  triumphal  procession,  and  won 
dering  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  prisoner.  Basset  had  need 
of  all  his  natural  dignity,  and  more  than  he  could  assume  besides, 
to  keep  the  little  mob  in  tolerable  order.  It  is  true  the  conduct 
of  Holden,  who,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  constable, 
followed  him  like  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,  made  the  task  less 
difficult. 

The  place  to  which  he  was  taken,  was  no  other  than  the  office 
of  Ketchum,  it  not  being  usual  for  justices  to  have  offices  of 
their  own,  the  amount  of  business  not  warranting  such  an 
expense.  On  occasions  like  the  present  it  was  customary  for  the 
lawyer  who  took  charge  of  the  case  to  supply  the  court-room? 
and  this,  of  course,  was  his  own  office,  as  the  most  convenient 
place  where  law  books  and  other  necessary  instruments  were  at 
hand.  Here,  then,  Holden  was  left  by  the  constable  with 
Ketchum,  the  officer  of  the  law  meanwhile  proceeding  to  hunt 
up  Squire  Miller.  During  his  absence,  Ketchum  addressed  some 


THE      LOST      HUNTER*.  179 

remarks  to  the  prisoner,  and  endeavored  to  engage  him  in  con 
versation,  but  without  success,  Holden  receiving  his  advances 
with  coldness,  and  evidently  averse  to  establish  the  relation  of 
even  speaking  acquaintanceship.  Ketchum  finding  all  efforts 
vain,  at  last  desisted,  and  Holden  sat  in  silence,  brooding  over 
his  own  thoughts. 

Upon  Basset's  return,  he  was  accompanied  not  only  by  the 
justice,  but  also  by  Pownal,  who  had  accidentally  heard  of  the 
arrest,  and  by  two  or  three  other  persons  attracted  by  curiosity. 
Pownal  immediately  walked  up  to  his  friend,  and,  grasping  his 
hand,  expressed  his  interest,  and  tendered  his  services. 

I  know  not,  said  Holden,  in  reply  to  his  expressions  of  sym 
pathy,  why  I  am  to  be  made  a  gazing-stock  for  curious  eyes  ; 
but  the  Lord's  will  be  done. 

Pownal  requested  to  see  the  warrant,  and  for  the  first  time 
learned  the  nature  of  the  accusation  ;  he  then  sent  a  messenger 
after  Mr.  Tippit,  and  that  gentleman,  in  compliance  with  the 
summons,  soon  made  his  appearance.  Him  Pownal  engaged  to 
defend  the  prisoner.  By  this  time  the  little  office  was  filled  with 
an  inquisitive  crowd,  eager  to  hear  the  eloquence  of  the  counsel, 
and  to  watch  the  vibrations  of  the  scales  of  justice,  among 
whom  Judge  Bernard  might  be  seen  seated  by  the  side  of  the 
prisoner.  Any  person  entered  and  departed  as  he  pleased,  the 
room  being,  for  the  time  of  the  trial,  converted  into  a  public 
place  ;  and  while  preparations  were  being  made  preliminary  to 
the  opening  of  the  court,  the  spectators  amused  themselves  with 
making  observations  to  each  other. 

"What  have  they  took  Holden  up  for  ?"  said  a  man  to  Mr. 
Davenport,  who,  of  course,  was  present. 

"  I  hear  it  is  for  profane  speaking  and  reviling,"  answered 
Davenport. 

"  If  everybody  was  to  have  his  desarts-,"  said  our  friend,  Tom 
Gladding,  squirting  a  stream  of  tobacco  juice  over  the  floor,  "  I 


180  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

guess,  some  others  would  be  worse  off,"  and  he  looked  sharply 
at  Davenport. 

"  It  is  time  such  things  should  be.  punished,"  said  Davenport. 
"People  begin  to  act  as  if  there  was  no  law  in  the  country." 

"Don't  you  be  quite  so  hard  on  a  fellow,"  said  Tom.  "I 
recollect  the  time  before  you  were  convarted,  squire,  when  you 
swore  like  a  trooper." 

The  face  of  Davenport  faded  into  a  dusky  grey  with  anger, 
and  he  looked  as  if  he  would  have  liked  to  annihilate  the 
audacious  Tom,  but,  by  a  violent  effort,  controlling  his  passion, 
he  said  : 

"  I  trust  the  Lord  has  forgiven  me  the  sin." 

"  I  hope  he  has,"  said  Tom,  "  and  seems  to  me  it  would  be  a 
good  thing  for  Squire  Miller  to  follow  his  example." 

"  Suppose  you  tell  him  so,"  said  Davenport,  sarcastically. 

"Well,  seeing  as  how  you're  so  pressing,"  said  Gladding. 
11 1  don't  care  if  I  do.  Squire,"  he  cried,  addressing  the  Jus 
tice,  and  drawing  the  attention  of  all  to  himself,  "  here's  Squire 
Davenport  says,  he  expects  the  Lord's  forgive  his  cussing  and 
swearing,  and  thinks  you'd  better  do  as  well  by  Father  Holden, 
and  let  him  run." 

A  general  shout  of  laughter  greeted  this  speech  of  Gladding's, 
and  there  were  exclamations  of  "  Well  said,  Tom,"  and  "  He  had 
him,  there,"  and  "  Who  would  have  thought  that  of  Daven 
port  ?" 

The  unfortunate  victim  glared,  with  fury  in  his  eyes,  at  Tom, 
who,  interpreting  his  looks  to  suit  himself,  cried — 

"  He's  coming,  Squire,  to  speak  for  himself." 

Davenport  here  protested,  he  had  said  no  such  thing,  and 
that  it  was  a  shame  he  should  be  abused  by  a  scurrilous  fellow, 
in  such  a  manner. 

"What's  that  you  say?"  said  Gladding,  stepping  up  to 
Davenport ;  "  I'm  no  more  squirrilous,  than  you  are  yourself ; 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  181 

though,  for  that  matter,  there  ain't  a  squirrel  on  a  walnut  tree, 
but  would  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  in  your  company, — squirril- 
ous  fellow,  eh  !" 

"  Silence  !"  cried  the  Justice.  "  Mister  Gladding,  I  must 
say,  I  think  such  language  very  improper  ;  and  I  hope,  if  you 
expect  to  remain  here,  you  will  stop  it." 

"  Squire,"  said  Gladding,  "  he  begun  it  ;  I'll  leave  it  to  the 
company,  if  he  didn't  first  call  me  a  squirrel." 

"  Silence  I"  reiterated  the  Justice  ;  "  we  must  have  order  ; 
and,  if  you  don't  choose  to' observe  order,  you  must  leave  the 
room." 

"  You  hain't  opened  court  yet,"  persisted  the  pertinacious 
Tom.  "  I  guess  we  know  our  rights." 

Here  Basset  came  up  to  Tom,  and,  taking  him  by  the  arm, 
whispered  a  few  words  into  his  ear.  They  seemed  to  be  of  a 
sedative  character,  for  the  latter,  contenting  himself  with  an 
occasional  glance  of  mischievous  fun  at  his  late  opponent, 
abstained  from  further  remark. 

By  this  time,  the  subpoena  for  the  witnesses  had  been 
returned,  and  the  persons  summoned  made  their  appearance. 
The  overt  act  was  so  notorious,  that  it  had  not  been  considered 
necessary  to  summon  many,  and  the  few  needed  were  soon 
hunted  up.  Hereupon,  Mr.  Ketchum  having  intimated  a  readi 
ness,  on  the  part  of  the  State,  to  proceed,  Mr.  Tippit,  after 
some  conversation  with  Judge  Bernard  and  Pownal,  Holden 
refusing  to  hold  any  intercourse  with  him  also,  entered  the  plea 
of  "  not  guilty,"  for  his  client. 

The  hour  of  noon  had  now  arrived,  and  that  being  the  dinner 
time  of  most  present,  Justice  Miller  yielded  to  the  request  of 
Mr.  Tippet,  and  the  pleadings  of  his  own  stomach,  to  adjourn 
the  sitting  of  the  court  till  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  in 
order,  not  only  to  gratify  the  demands  of  appetite,  but,  also, 
that  the  counsel  might  have  an  opportunity  to  confer  with  his 


182  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

client  and  prepare  his  defence.  Ketchuru  remonstrated  against 
the  delay  as  unreasonable,  but  the  Justice,  who  felt  no  disposi 
tion  to  hurry  himself,  and  was,  at  bottom,  not  an  uuamiable 
man,  told  him,  there  would  be  time  enough  to  finish  the  case  in 
the  afternoon,  provided  he  and  Mr.  Tippit  did  not  talk  too  long. 
Meanwhile,  upon  the  promise  of  Judge  Bernard  to  be  responsi 
ble  for  the  safety  of  the  prisoner,  Holden  was  allowed  to  depart 
with  him,  and  Pownal,  who  had  been  invited  to  dinner  with  the 
Judge,  accompanied  them  to  his  house. 

Here  they  found  Faith,  in  a  state  of  high  excitement. 

"I," she  said,  seizing  the  old  man's  hands,  while  the  tears 

streamed  down  her  cheeks  ;  "  I  am  to  blame  for  this  persecu 
tion.  0,  Father  Holden,  if  I  had  not  begged,  and  almost 
forced  you  to  go  with  us  that  evening,  this  would  not  have 
happened." 

"  Dear  child  1"  said  Holden,  "  afflict  not  thyself.  Thou  and 
I  are  but  as  flying  dust  on  the  eternal  wheels  of  destiny.  Fear 
not,  nor  let  thy  heart  be  troubled.  Even  yet,  the  Lord  will 
make  bare  his  arm  and  I  shall  escape,  even  as  a  bird  from  the 
snare  of  the  fowler." 

But  Faith  partook  not  of  the  enthusiast's  confidence.  To 
her  alarmed  imagination,  the  deliverance  of  Holden  seemed  as 
improbable  as  that  of  Daniel  from  the  den  of  lions,  and  the 
impending  doom  almost  as  dreadful  as  that  destined  for  the 
prophet.  She  knew  what  the  consequences  would  be  were 
Holden  found  guilty  ;  for,  soon  after  the  reading  of  the  war 
rant  by  Pownal,  its  contents  had  been  communicated  to  her, 
and  she  had  been  informed  respecting  the  punishment.  To  her 
delicate  and  sensitive  mind,  the  charge  itself— that  of  profane 
speaking  and  reviling,  was  inexpressibly  revolting.  She  knew 
that  the  condition  of  mind  such  language  implies,  was  entirely 
wanting,  and  that  it  was  in  the  performance  of  what  he  con 
sidered  a  duty,  the  old  man  had  spoken.  Father  Holden  capa- 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  183 

ble  of  profane  speaking  !  He,  whose  heart  was  the  seat  of  all 
noble  emotions  ;  he,  who  had  renounced  the  world,  and  tram 
pled  its  temptations  tand  vanities  under  foot  ;  he,  who  living  in 
the  world,  was  not  of  the  world  1  That  such  an  one,  so  harm 
less,  so  guileless,  so  innocent,  should  be  paraded  through  the 
streets  like  a  wild  beast  which  it  was  unsafe  to  have  at  large, 
that  he  should  be  exposed  to  the  prying  looks  of  coarse  and 
unfeeling  men,  and  compelled  to  hear  their  vile  ribaldry,  and, 
finally,  compelled  to  an  ignominious  punishment,  among  the 
vicious,  in  a  workhouse  !  The  disgrace  was  more  than  she 
could  bear.  It  seemed  her  heart  would  break.  Overcome  by 
her  emotions,  she  left  the  room,  followed  by  Anne,  who  par 
took  of  her  grief  and  indignation. 

All  participated  in  the  feelings  of  the  young  ladies,  and,  as 
might  be  supposed,  the  young  men  most.  To  Pownal,  a  wish 
of  Anne's  was  a  command  ;  nor  was  there  a  danger,  scarcely,  he 
would  have  refused  to  encounter  to  gratify  her.  He  had  never, 
indeed,  breathed  a  word  of  love,  but  he  had  flattered  himself  of 
late  that  she  understood  his  feelings,  and  that  the  knowledge 
gave  her  no  displeasure  ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  disparity  in  their 
conditions,  hope  nestled  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  Besides, 
Faith  was  with  him  a  favorite,  and  it  distressed  him  to  witness 
her  excitement. 

Nor  could  William  Bernard  behold  'unmoved  the  tears  of 
Faith,  or  the  agitation  of  his  sister.  Never,  indeed,  before  had 
the  divine  eyes  of  Faith  Armstrong  so  affected  him  as  now,  when 
suffused  with  tears  ;  nor  had  her  beauty  ever  shone  so  resplen 
dent.  Upon  the  withdrawal  of  the  girls,  he  put  his  arm  into 
that  of  Pownal,  and  drawing  him  into  a  recess,  the  young  men 
took  counsel  together  respecting  what  should  be  done. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  all  parties  were  again  present  in  the 
little  office  of  the  lawyer,  and  the  examination  commenced.  It 
is  unnecessary  to  recapitulate  in  full  the  testimony.  In  spite  of 


184  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

the  ingenuity  of  Mr.  Tippit,  who  closely  cross-examined  the 
witnesses   for   the   prosecution,   and   thereby  only   made   them 
rather  strengthen  than  weaken  the  force  of  their  testimony,  the 
facts  were  fully  proved.     Indeed,  the  whole  occurrence  was  too 
recent  and  public  to  make  the  proof  a  task  of  any  difficulty. 
The  only  differences  in  the  statements  of  the  witnesses  were, 
that  some  thought  Holden  was  standing  at  the  side  of  the  read 
ing-desk,  when  he  addressed  Davenport,  while  others  were  as 
sure  he  was  in  front,  a  circumstance  considered  by  Ketchum  and 
the  Court  as  of  no  consequence,  while  Tippit  regarded  it  as  of 
the  greatest  importance,  as  a  test  of  the  accuracy  of  the  memory, 
if  not  of  the  veracity  of  the  witnesses  ;  and,  again,  what  came 
out  in  the  persevering  cross-examination  by  Tippit,  viz. :  that  in 
the  opinion  of  some  witnesses,  Holden,  instead  of  saying  "soul- 
damning  and  abominable  lies,"  said  "damned,  abominable  lies." 
The  eyes  of  Ketchum  fairly  danced  when  the  efforts  of  his  oppo 
nent  succeeded  in  eliciting  from  the  badgered  and  provoked  wit 
ness  this  most  mal-a-propos  testimony  which  his  own  ingenuity 
had  been  unable  to  draw  forth,  and  he  took  care,  in  the  rest  of 
the  examination,  to  get  the  same  statement  if  possible  from  the 
remainder  of  the  witnesses.     In  this  he  was  partially  successful, 
each  one  intending  most  sincerely  to  tell  the  truth,  and  yet  art 
fully  led  on  by  the  lawyer,  often  falsely  coloring  and  distorting 
the  facts.     On  the  conclusion  of  the  testimony  on  the  part  of 
the  State,  Mr.  Tippit  produced  witnesses  to  prove  the  words 
spoken,  who,  after  all,  did  not  alter  the  complexion  of  things, 
and  also  the  good  character  of  the  prisoner,  but  this  latter  pro 
posal  was  stoutly  opposed  by  Ketchum,  as  irrelevant  to  the 

issue. 

"What  have  we  to  do,"  said  he,  "with  the  character  o 
prisoner  ?     His  character  is  not  at  issue,     That  may  be  as  good 
as  the  Court's,  for  instance  (and  I  desire  no  higher),  and  yet  the 
offence  charged  may  have  been  committed.     If  brother  Tippit  is 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  185 

allowed  to  run  into  all  these  side  issues,  we  shall  never  be  done 
with  the  examination,  and  therefore  I  object  to  the  testimony." 

Tippit,  in  reply,  expressed  great  surprise  at  the  conduct  of 
his  brother,  Ketchum  ;  "  but,"  said  he,  "  I  do  not  wonder  at  the 
anxiety  of  the  gentleman  to  keep  out  testimony  of  so  vast 
importance  for  my  client.  Here  is  a  discrepancy.  Some  wit 
nesses  state  the  language  said  to  have  been  used  by  my  client  in 
one  way,  some  in  another.  Now,  although  a  man  of  good  cha 
racter  might  use  the  words  'soul  damning  and  abominable/ 
which  we  are  constantly  hearing  in  sermons  and  prayers,  and  if 
they  are  proper  there,  one  might  suppose  them  proper  in  com 
mon  discourse,  he  would  be  less  likely  to  use  the  other  phrase  ; 
though,  if  he  did,  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  convince  the  court 
there's  no  great  harm  in  that." 

Here  Ketchum's  face  expressed  unutterable  astonishment,  and 
the  Justice,  as  if  scandalized  at  the  proposition,  interrupted  the 
counsel,  and  told  him  he  hoped  he  did  not  mean  to  justify  pro 


fane  language. 


"Far  from  it,  please  your  honor,"  answered  Tippit,  "but  I 
say  we  have  been  guilty  of  no  profanity  which,  at  the  proper 
time,  I  expect  to  satisfy  the  court  of.  We  offer  the  testimony 
now  for  two  purposes  :  first,  to  assist  the  judgment  of  the 
court  in  coming  to  a  conclusion,  whether  the  words  were  spoken 
or  not,  because  if  we  prove  the  prisoner's  good  character,  it  is 
less  likely  they  were  uttered  by  him  ;  and  secondly,  if  your 
honor  should  be  of  opinion  that  the  words  were  used,  in  mitiga 
tion  of  punishment,  if,  indeed,  the  court  should  be  disposed  to 
take  notice  at  all  of  the  trifle  of  which  the  prisoner  stands 
accused." 

Ketchum  reiterated  his  objections,  denying  that  the  testi 
mony  was  admissible  for  either  purpose.  He  did  not  think,  he 
said,  that  his  brother  Tippit  was  able  to  assist  the  judgment  of 
the  court  a  great  deal  ;  as  for  judgment,  the  article  was  so 


186  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

scarce  with  a  certain  gentleman,  lie  advised  him  to  keep  the 
modicum  he  had  for  his  own  use.  So  far  as  mitigation 
of  punishment  was  concerned,  he  thought  the  greater  the 
respectability  of  the  offender,  the  greater  should  be  the 
punishment,  both  because  his  education  and  opportunities  should 
have  taught  him  better,  and  by  way  of  example  to  others,  in 
like  case  to  offend.  The  doctrine  of  the  gentleman,  he  added, 
might  do  well  enough  where  kings  and  aristocrats  ground  the 
people  to  powder,  but  he  hoped  never  to  see  the  day,  when,  in 
our  own  free  country,  a  man  might  do  what  he  pleased  because 
he  was  respectable. 

This  sentiment,  notwithstanding  the  feelings  of  almost  all 
present  were  in  favor  of  Holden,  was  so  decidedly  patriotic, 
that  it  met  the  most  favorable  reception,  and  there  was  a  gene 
ral  whispering  and  rustling  among  the  audience.  After  the 
sensation  had  subsided,  Justice  Miller,  with  some  hesitation, 
decided  to  receive  the  testimony  for  the  present.  "It  is  dif 
ferent,"  he  said,  "  from  allowing  evidence  to  go  to  a  jury.  I  am 
both  court  and  jury,  and  will  think  it  over,  and  reject  it,  if  I 
think  it  should  be."  With  this  decision  the  counsel  were 
obliged  to  acquiesce,  and  Tippit  proceeded  with  his  testimony. 

It  was  easier  to  prove  the  good  character  of  Holden  than 
the  exact  occurrence  at  the  meeting.  Judge  Bernard,  Mr. 
Armstrong,  who  came  into  the  court  in  the  afternoon,  Pownal, 
and  many  ottters,  testified  to  his  irreproachable  reputation,  and 
were  certain  that  his  conduct  proceeded  from  no  evil  intent. 

After  the  testimony  had  all  been  taken,  followed  the  speeches 
of  the  counsel.  Ketchum,  who,  as  prosecutor,  was  entitled  to 
the  opening  and  closing  arguments,  rose  and  stated  that,  as  the 
days  were  short,  and  it  was  growing  late,  he  would  waive  his 
right  of  openiug,  and  reserve  what  he  had  to  say  to  the  time 
when  his  brother  Tippit  had  concluded.  To  this  arrangement 
Tippit  strenuously  objected,  insisting  that  the  State  had  made 


THE     LOST      HUNTER.  187 

out  so  poor  a  case,  that  he  hardly  knew  what  to  reply  to,  and 
that  in  all  fairness  the  counsel  for  the  State  ought  to  enlighten 
him.  The  court,  however,  decided,  that  although  it  was  a 
strange  thing  for  a  lawyer  to  desire  to  be  excused  from  making 
a  speech,  yet  it  was  a  course  he  felt  much  obliged  to  Mr. 
Ketchum  for  adopting,  and  hoped  that  he  would  not  revenge 
himself  for  the  abstinence  by  putting  two  speeches  into  one,  at 
the  conclusion. 

Smiles  and  applauding  whispers  among  the  audience  re 
warded  the  Justice  for  this  brilliant  display  of  wit. 

Hereupon  Mr.  Tippit  rose  and  addressed  the  court.  He 
begun  by  hinting  at  the  embarrassment  he  felt  in  not  having  the 
advantage,  to  use  his  own  language,  of  what  his  brother 
Ketchum  intended  to  say.  For  his  own  part,  he  had  carefully 
considered  the  law  and  Evidence,  and  could  not  find  the.  shadow 
of  a  pretext  for  detaining  the  prisoner.  He  then  went  on  to 
speak  of  the  prisoner  himself,  his  age,  his  harmless  life,  and  the 
excellent  character  he  sustained.  All  this,  he  argued,  went  to 
show  the  improbability  of  his  having  uttered  the  language  con 
sidered  most  objectionable.  He  contended  that  although  he 
would  most  cheerfully  admit  that  the  prisoner  had  said  some 
thing  in  the  conference-room,  it  was  impossible  to  determine 
accurately  what  that  something  was  ;  that  if  in  this  state  of 
things  the  court  not  be  satisfied  what  the  words  were  exactly,  it 
was  as  if  no  words  at  all  had  been  uttered,  and  there  were  none 
to  be  passed  upon.  But  what  were  the  words  ?  Here  the 
learned  counsel  minutely  examined  the  evidence,  and  arrived  at 
the  conclusion,  that  it  was  impossible  to  ascertain  them. 
Hence,  he  said,  the  corpus  delicti  is  wanting.  But  suppose 
the  words  were  as  testified  by  some,  though  they  are  contra 
dicted  by  others,  "  damned  abominable,"  what  then  ?  Was 
that  reviling  or  profane  speaking?  The  words  were  two. 
Now,  no  one  would  pretend  that  " abominable77  was  profane 


188  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

language.  ''The  idea  is  abominable,"  said  Tippit,  "  and  I  hope 
brother  Ketchum  won't  take  me  up  for  saying  that.  What  does 
the  other  word  mean  ?"  Hereupon  the  counsel  referred  to  a 
dictionary,  to  which  also  we  refer  our  readers.  "There  you 
see,"  said  he,  "  there  is  no  harm  in  it.  At  most,  the  word  can 
in  its  present  application,  be  considered  only  as  an  intensitive, 
or  the  like.  The  fact  is,  may  it  please  the  court,  it  is  but  a 
strong  form  of  expression,  and  means  no  more  nor  less  than 
very,  and  I  should  be  willing  to  leave  it  to  the  good  sense  of 
those  who  hear  me,  as  to  a  jury,  to  say  if  my  construction  is 
not  correct." 

Here  Tom  Gladding  nodded  his  head  at  Tippit. 

"Mr.  Gladding,"  continued  Tippit,  "nods  his  head,  and  I 
honor  his  judgment,  and  venture  to  say  there  is  not  a  man 
here  better  qualified  to  speak  on  the  subject." 

Here  there  was  a  general  laugh  at  Tom's  expense,  in  which 
the  court  itself  joined.  Tom,  appearing  to  regard  the  joke 
very  little,  and  only  saying  "The  squire's  got  it  right  by 
chance  this  time,  I  guess."  Presently,  the  court  commanded 
silence,  and  Mr.  Tippit  proceeded. 

"I  flatter  myself,"  he  added,  "that  I  have  satisfied  your 
honor  there  is  no  profane  language  in  the  case  ;  and  that 
ought  to  be  sufficient  for  my  purpose,  even  though  the  court 
should  be  of  opinion  that  the  prisoner  was  guilty  of  reviling  j 
because  the  words  of  the  statute  are  in  the  conjunctive,  provid 
ing  punishment  only  where  profane  speaking  and  reviling  are 
united,  being  levelled,  not  at  one  alone,  but  at  both  as  one  act. 
It  should  also  be  borne  in  mind,  that  the  statute  is  penal,  and 
"for  that  reason  must  be  construed,  strictly,  in  favor  of  liberty. 
But  I  will  now  proceed  to  inquire  whether  there  has  been  any 
reviling  in  the  ,sense  of  the  statute.  Who  was  intended  to  be 
protected  against  injurious  language  ?  Reasonable  beings 
only,  certainly.  Assuredly  not  the  delicate  feelings  of  horses,  or 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  189 

cows,  or  pigs,  and  if  so,  much  less  those  of  an  inanimate  object, 
like  a  book.  Now,  it  will  be  recollected  that  the  language 
uttered  characterized  the  contents  of  a  book,  not  Mr.  Daven 
port.  The  words  were  consistent  with  the  supposition  that  the 
prisoner  cherished  the  highest  respect  for  him,  whatever  his 
opinion  might  be  of  the  sermon.  It  was  then  absurd  to  pursue 
a  man  criminally  for  criticising  a  book,  and  requesting  another 
not  to  read  it,  which  was  all  that  had  been  done." 

Here  Ketchum  inquired  how  his  brother  Tippit  would  get 
over  the  words,  "  man  of  sin,"  which  it  was  testified  had  been 
applied  by  the  prisoner  to  Davenport. 

Mr.  Tippit  treated  the  inquiry  with  great  contempt.  "  Does 
the  gentleman,"  he  asked,  in  turn,  "  claim  for  Mr.  Davenport  a 
superhuman  degree  of  piety  ?  Would  he  have  us  understand 
that  Mr.  Davenport  is  not  a  sinful  man,  and  is  the  expression 
made  use  of  by  Mr.  Holden  more  than  tantamount  to  that  ?  I 
do  not  think  the  words  worthy  of  notice,'7  he  said,  "  nor  am  I 
disposed  to  waste  time  on  them."  Mr.  Tippit  concluded  by 
saying,  that  if  a  man,  in  the  honest  expression  of  his  opinions 
about  a  book,  was  to  be  dealt  with  criminally,  free  speech,  free 
action,  the  noble  inheritance  of  our  ancestors,  were  gone,  and 
the  liberties  of  the  country  no  more.  Collecting  himself  for  a 
last  effort,  he  represented  the  Goddess  of  Liberty,  like  Niobe, 
all  tears,  weeping  over  the  fate  of  her  children,  should  the 
iniquity,  contemplated  by  Ketchum,  be  consummated. 

The  impression  made  by  the  lawyer's  speech  was  favorable,  as 
was  evident  from  the  looks  of  the  audience,  and  the  approving 
hum  that  filled  the  room,  and  prepossessed  as  they  were  in 
favor  of  Holden,  they  would  undoubtedly  have  acquitted  him, 
but,  alas  !  they  were  not  the  tribunal  to  decide  his  fate.  We 
have  already  dilated  on  the  proceedings  of  the  little  court  of 
pied  poudre,  beyond  our  original  intention,  and  for  that  reason 
shall  endeavor,  without  designing,  "  with  malice  prepense,"  to 


190  .  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

slight  the  eloquence  of  Ketchum,  to  compress  his  remarks  into 
as  small  a  compass  as  possible.  He  has  since  risen  to  the 
dignity  of  a  County  Court  Judge,  and,  therefore,  needs  no 
celebrity,  which  a  work  so  unpretending  as  the  present,  can 
confer. 

Mr.  Ketchum  then  began  by  saying,  that  to  be  sure  his  expe 
rience  in  courts  was  not  very  great,  but  he  had  some,  and,  so 
far  as  it  went,  he  never  knew  a  case  plainer  than  the  one  on 
trial.  The  gentleman  (bowing  to  Tippit),  with  all  his  ingenuity, 
and  he  was  not  going  to  deny  him  his  due,  which  was  greater 
than  his  knowledge  of  the  law,  had  been  unable  to  affect  his 
own  mind,  or,  as  he  believed,  the  mind  of  his  honor,  or  of  any 
one  present.  He  felt,  therefore,  that  the  task  before  him, 
though  an  unpleasant  one,  was  lightened  by  the  inability  of  his 
brother  Tippit  to  make  out  even  a  plausible  defence.  Feeling 
this,  he  should,  if  he  consulted  only  his  own  inclinations,  be 
disposed  to  leave  the  case  where  it  was,  without  comment,  but 
he  supposed  it  was  expected  he  should  say  something,  and  in 
the  discharge  of  his  duty,  he  would  comply  with  the  expectation. 
As  for  the  character  of  the  prisoner,  he  had  nothing  to  say 
about  it.  He  would  neither  admit  that  it  was  good,  nor  claim 
that  it  was  bad  ;  whatever  it  might  be,  it  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  case.  The  question  was,  what  was  done  at  ifhe  meet 
ing  ?  All  the  witnesses  agreed  that  the  prisoner  interrupted 
the  proceedings.  True,  they  disagreed  in  respect  to  the  exact 
words,  but  take  the  testimony  of  any,  and  sufficient  was  made 
out  to  support  the  prosecution.  Here  he  dwelt  upon  a  criticism 
of  the  words,  coming  to  conclusions  precisely  the  opposite  of 
Tippit's,  and  contending  they  were  both  profane  and  reviling. 
"  It  was  preposterous/7  he  claimed,  "  to  say  that  Holden  meant 
merely  to  criticise  the  book.  The  language  was  not  addressed 
to  the  book,  but  to  Davenport :  the  book  was  not  called,  "man 
of  sin,"  but  Davenport.  The  words,  "  man  of  sin  "  had  a  pecu- 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  191 

liar  meaning.  They  were  designed  in  the  Scriptures  to  express 
condemnation,  and  horror,  and  wickedness.  They  were  not 
synonymous  with  "sinful  man,"  though  even  these  words 
might  be  considered  words  of  reviling,  had  they  been  used  in 
the  same  circumstances.  The  contempt  affected  by  his  brother 
Tippit  was  so  much  powder  and  shot  thrown  away.  Nobody 
believed  he  really  felt  it.  It  was  like  the  grimaces  of  a  culprit, 
trying  to  hide  his  apprehensions  by  forced  smiles."  He  con 
cluded  by  apologizing  for  not  being  a  poet,  like  his  brother  Tip- 
pit,  nor  as  familiar  with  goddesses.  He  knew  that  his  friend 
was  a  gallant  young  man,  and  fond  of  the  ladies,  and  he  would 
confess  to  the  weakness  himself,  but  as  for  goddesses,  they  were 
a  touch  above  him,  &c. 

The  court  had  listened  with  patience  to  both  testimony  and 
speech,  and  was  now  to  pass  sentence,  acting  up  to  the  advice 
of  a  shrewd  English  lawyer,  to  one  who  without  much  legal 
learning  had  been  appointed  to  a  judgeship  in  a  colony,  never  to 
give  his  reasons  when  he  pronounced  judgment,  for  although 
the  judgment  had  an  equal  chance  to  be  right  or  wrong,  the 
reasons  were  almost  certain  to  be  incorrect,  Justice  Miller  con 
tented  himself  with  finding  the  prisoner  guilty,  and  sentenced 
him  to  a  week's  confinement  in  the  town  workhouse. 

It  was  not  without  some  surprise  that  the  friends  of  Holden 
heard  the  decision.  Although  contemplating  its  possibility,  they 
had  indulged  a  hope  that  the  Justice  would  be  unwilling  to  sub 
ject  one  so  harmless,  and  whom  they  considered  innocent  of  all 
intention  to  violate  the  law,  to  any  punishment ;  but  with 
that  reverence  for  law  which  characterizes  New  England,  and 
without  which  there  can  be  no  security  for  free  institutions,'they 
submitted,  although  not  without  some  murmurs.  It  was  in' vain, 
they  knew,  to  ask  for  any  mitigation  ;  Justice  Miller  having  once 
pronounced  sentence,  being  as  inexorable  as  the  Supreme  Court. 
The  room  was  soon  nearly  emptied,  of  the  spectators,  none 


192  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

remaining  except  the  particular  friends  of  the  prisoner.  Nothing 
remained  but  to  carry  the  sentence  into  execution.  Holders 
friends  also  at  last  took  a  sorrowful  leave,  and  the  mittimus 
being  made  out,  it  was  handed  to  Basset,  to  remove  the  prisoner 
to  the  place  of  destination. 

For  the  sake  of  greater  security,  Basset  now  produced  a  pair 
of  handcuffs,  which  he  put  on  the  condemned  man's  hands,  who 
offered  no  objection,  but  calmly  submitted  to  his  fate. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  L93 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Arniado. — By  my  sweet  soul,  I  mean  setting  thee  at  liberty,  enfreedoming  thy  person : 
thou  wert  immured,  captivated,  bound. 

Costard. — True,  true,  and  now  you  will  be  my  purgation,  and  let  me  loose. 

Armado. — I  give  thee  thy  liberty,  set  thee  free  from  durance  ;  and  in  lieu  thereof 
impose  on  thee  nothing  but  this. 

LOVE'S  LABOR  LOST. 

BY  the  time  the  court  had  concluded  its  session  it  was  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  It  was  quite  dark,  and  the  snow  was 
falling  heavily.  When,  therefore,  the  constable  stepped  into  the 
street,  holding  his  prisoner  by  the  arm,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
he  encountered  but  few  passengers.  Those  whom  he  did  meet 
had  their  hats  or  caps  slouched  over  their  brows,  which  were 
bending  down  upon  their  breasts  to  protect  the  face  from  the 
driving  snow.  It  was  impossible,  so  thick  were  the  flakes,  to 
see  more  than  a  few  feet  before  one.  It  was  a  fortunate  circum 
stance,  inasmuch,  at  least,  as  it  saved  the  Recluse  from  the  humi 
liation  of  being  seen  by  his  townsmen. 

The  workhouse  was  situated  at  the  distance  of  nearly  a  mile 
from  the  centre  of  the  village,  on  a  little  farm  of  some  twenty 
acres,  and  stood  several  rods  apart  from  any  inhabited  house. 
It  was  the  half  of  a  large  unpainted  wooden  building  divided 
into  two  sections,  the  other  half  of  which  was  used  as  an  alms- 
house,  and  might  be  considered  as  a  sort  of  auxiliary  or  ally  of 
the  county  jail,  to  receive  those  minor  offenders  whom  the  dig 
nity  of  the  latter  rejected. 

The  road  Basset  had  to  travel  passed  over  the  lower  bridge 
of  the  Yaupaae,  next  went  up  a  hill,  and  then  suddenly  turning, 

9 


194  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

skirted  the  lake-like  expanse  of  water,  on  which  the  building 
was  situated.  In  order,  however,  to  reach  the  house,  it  was 
necessary  to  leave  the  main  road  and  pass  down  a  lane  of  some 
twenty  rods  in  length. 

Together  the  pair  proceeded  through  the  driving  snow,  Basset 
keeping  hold  of  Holden,  who  walked  meekly  by  his  side.  The 
fatalism  of  the  latter  seemed  to  have  taken  entire  possession  of 
his  mind,  and  he  probably  regarded  his  sufferings  as  a  necessary 
part  of  the  designs  of  Providence,  which  it  would  be  as  wicked 
as  vain  to  resist.  The  constable  had  repeatedly  endeavored  to 
engage  his  companion  in  conversation,  striving  to  comfort  him 
with  the  opinion,  that  the  keeper  of  the  quasi  jail  was  a  "clever 
man,"  and  that  people  did  not  find  it  as  bad  as  they  expected, 
and  a  week  would  quickly  pa'ss  away.  "  In  winter,"  said  Basset, 
"  when  it's  hard  to  get  work,  I've  known  many  a  likely  young 
fellow  do  some  trick  on  purpose  to  be  put  into  the  workhouse 
till  spring  ;  so  it  can't  be  the  worst  place  in  the  world."  Basset 
stretched  the  truth  a  little.  He  might  have  known  or  heard  of 
persons,  who,  in  order  to  obtain  warmth,  and  food,  and  shelter 
during  that  inclement  season,  had  committed  petty  crimes,  but 
such  instances  were  exceedingly  rare,  and  the  offenders  were 
anything  but  "  likely  fellows."  But  Basset  must  be  excused 
his  leasing,  for  he  felt  lonely,  and  longed  to  hear  the  sound  of  a 
human  voice,  and  failing  that  of  another,  was  fain  to  put  up 
with  his  own  as  better  than  none.  But  Holden  steadily  resisted 
all  the  advances  of  the  constable,  refusing  to  reply  to  any  ques 
tion,  or  to  take  notice  of  anything  he  might  say,  until  the  latter, 
cither  wearied  out  by  the  pertinacity  of  his  captive,  or  vexed 
by  what  he  considered  sullenness  or  arrogance,  himself  relapsed 
into  silence. 

They  hud  crossed  the  bridge,  passed  up  the  hill,  and  traversed 
the  road  along  the  margin  of  the  Yaupaae,  and  were  now  just 
entering  the  lane  that  runs  down  to  the  house.  The  storm  was 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  195 

raging  with  unabated  fury,  and  the  constable,  with  clenched 
teeth,  and  bent  head,  and  half-shut  eyes,  was  breasting  the 
driving  flakes,  and  congratulating  himself  with  the  idea  that  his 
exposure  would  soon  be  over,  and  he  by  the  side  of  a  warm 
stove  in  one  of  the  stores,  the  hero  of  the  evening,  recounting 
the  adventures  of  the  day  and  comfortably  taking  his  cheerful 
glass,  when  suddenly,  without  having  seen  a  person,  his  cap  was 
violently  pulled  over  his  eyes,  a-thick  coffee-bag  slipped  over  his 
head,  and  a  hand  applied  to  his  throat  to  stifle  any  cries,  should 
he  be  disposed  to  make  them.  But  the  poor  fellow  was  too 
much  frightened  to  emit  a  sound,  had  he  been  never  so  much 
inclined  to  scream. 

"Make  no  noise,"  said  a  stern  but  disguised  voice,  "  and  you 
are  safe.  No  injury  is  designed.  I  will  lead  you.  Follow 
quietly." 

The  man  grasped  his  arm,  and  led  him,  as  it  seemed,  out  of 
the  travelled  path  into  an  adjoining  field,  for  he  was  directed  to 
lift  his  feet  at  a  particular  spot,  and  in  doing  so,  struck  them 
against  what  were  evidently  wooden  bars,  such  as  are  every 
where  to  be  found  in  New  England,  at  the  entrances  to  the 
stone-wall  encircled  lots.  They  were  followed  by  Holden,  and, 
as  the  constable  judged,  from  the  slight  sounds  he  succeeded  in 
occasionally  catching,  by  another  person.  When  his  captor 
seemed  to  think  he  was  in  a  place  where  he  would  be  unlikely  to 
be  disturbed  by  a  casual  passer,  he  stopped  and  demanded  the 
key  to  the  hand-cuffs.  Every  movement  of  the  constable  must 
have  been  narrowly  watched  during  the  evening,  for,  as  he  hesi 
tated,  either  confused  by  the  unexpected  capture,  and  forgetful 
of  where  he  had  placed  the  key,  or  desirous  to  gain  time  in  the 
hope  that  help  might  arrive — whatever  might  have  been  the 
motive,  no  time  was  granted,  the  same  stern  voice  instantly 
adding, 


196  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"The  key  is  in  the  right  pocket  of  your  pantaloons  :  give  it 
to  me  at  once." 

With  a  trembling  hand,  the  constable  produced  the  key  from 
his  pocket,  and  was  confirmed,  by  what  followed,  in  the  belief 
that  his  captor  must  have  a  coadjutor,  for  he  still  kept  his  hold, 
and  uttered  the  single  word  "here/7  as  if  addressing  another, 
and  handing  him  the  key.  Presently,  the  handcuffs  were  thrown 
down  at  his  feet,  and  he  thought  he  could  detect  the  sound  of 
receding  footsteps.  His  captor  then  demanded  the  mittimus, 
which  he  tore  into  small  pieces,  and  scattered  around.  In  this 
condition  muffled  so  that  he  could  hardly  breathe,  with  a  despe 
rado,  or  he  knew  not  how  many  at  his  side,  who,  at  the  least 
attempt  to  make  an  outcry,  might  do  him  some  bodily  injury  or 
perhaps  murder  him,  the  next  quarter  of  an  hour  seemed  a  whole 
dismal  night  to  the  unfortunate  Basset.  At  the  expiration  of 
that  time,  his  guard  addressed  him  again,  and  in  the  same  care 
fully  feigned  voice  : 

"  You  are  in  my  power,  and  who  would  know  it  were  I  to 
leave  your  corpse  to  stiffen  on  the  snow  ?  But  I  bear  you  no  ill 
will,  and  have  no  intention  to  hurt  you.  I  would  not  harm  a 
hair  of  your  head.  I  will  not  subject  you  even  to  the  incon 
venience  of  having  these  fetters  on  your  wrists,  though  you  were 
unfeeling  enough  to  place  them  on  a  man,  the  latchet  of  whose 
shoes  you  are  unworthy  to  unloose.  Be  thankful  for  the  fore- 
bearance,  and  show  that  you  know  how  to  appreciate  it.  Mark 
what  I  say.  Remain  where  you  are,  nor  venture  to  remove  the 
covering  for  half  an  hour.  It  will  keep  you  warm.  Return 
then  to  your  home,  nor  seek  to  discover  either  Holden  or  who 
rescued  him,  and  be  assured  he  was  not  privy  to  the  intention  to 
release  him.  Remember,  remember.  Eyes  will  be  upon  you. 
Good  night  1"  So  saying,  the  unknown  departed  and  left  the 
stupefied  constable  like  a  statue,  rooted  to  the  spot. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  19t 

There  he  remained,  not  daring  to  stir  or  to  remove  the  uncom 
fortable  head-dress — for  by  what  unseen  dangers  he  was  sur 
rounded  he  knew  not — until,  as  he  supposed,  the  half  hour  was 
more  than  passed.  Then  Basset  cautiously  and  slowly  raised 
his  hand  to  his  head,  as  if  to  intimate  that  if  any  one  were 
watching  and  wanted  him  to  desist,  h'e  was  ready  to  do  so,  and 
hearing  no  sound,  proceeded  to  divest  himself  of  the  hood. 
He  looked  around  but  could  see  nothing  ;  the  falling  snow 
effectually  shut  out  all  objects  from  sight.  He  tried  to 
move,  but  stiff  with  cold  his  limbs  refused  their  office,  and  he 
nearly  fell  down.  He  took  a  step  forward  and  his  feet  struck 
against  the  handcuffs.  He  stooped  down  and  picked  them  up, 
comforting  himself  with  the  reflection,  that  bad  as  was  his  case, 
it  might  have  been  worse  had  they  been  transferred  to  his  wrists. 
He  strove  to  peer  into  the  fallen  snow,  to  discover,  if  possible, 
any  tracks,  but  except  his  own  just  made  none  were  distinguish 
able.  The  snow  had  already  obliterated  them.  Faint  and 
weary,  and  frozen,  and  vexed  and  frightened,  the  melancholy 
Basset  turned  his  face  to  the  village,  not  among  his  cronies  with 
bold  brow  and  loud  voice  to  boast  of  his  achievements,  and  by 
the  aid  of  John  Barleycorn  to  screw  his  courage  up  to  a  fabulous 
pitch,  but  with  drooping  crest  and  dejected  spirits  to  slink  to  his 
bachelor's  bed,  and  dream  of  banditti  all  the  night. 

A  sadder,  if  not  a  wiser  man 

"  He  rose  the  morrow  morn." 

Not  a  word  spoke  he  the  next  day  of  his  misadventure,  until  it 
having  been  ascertained  that  Holden  had  not  been  at  the  work 
house,  inquiry  was  made  respecting  his  non-appearance.  The 
constable  was  then  obliged  to  confess  the  truth,  which  his 
captors,  as  if  defying  discovery,  had  not  enjoined  him  to  conceal. 
Faithful  to  his  instructions,  he  exculpated  Holden  from  all 


198  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

blame,  praising  him  for  his  submissiveness  to  the  law,  expressing 
his  conviction  that  the  old  man  knew  nothing  of  the  intentions 
of  his  captors,  nor  whether  they  were  friends  or  foes.  Notwith 
standing  the  reluctance  of  the  constable,  the  indignant  Justice, 
in  the  first  ebullition  of  his  anger,  made  out  another  mittimus, 
which  he  almost  forced  into  the  other's  unwilling  hands,  and 
commanded  him  to  arrest  the  fugitive,  wherever  he  might  find 
him,  by  night  or  by  day,  on  the  Lord's  Day  or  on  any  other 
day,  were  the  place  the  Sanctuary  itself. 

But  the  rescue  had  diverted  public  attention  from  the  Solitary 
into  another  channel,  and  the  community  had  not  a  stock  of 
indignation  sufficient,  like  the  Justice,  to  expend  on  Holden  as 
well  as  on  his  rescuers.  It  appeared,  even  to  the  few  who  were 
originally  in  favor  of  his  arrest,  that  he  had  suffered  enough, 
satisfied  as  they  were,  as  well  from  his  behavior  they  had 
witnessed  as  from  the  report  of  the  constable,  that  he  had  in  no 
respect  contributed  to  his  freedom,  but  was  rather  compelled  to 
accept  it,  and  therefore  attaching  no  blame  to  him  for  the 
escape.  The  resentment  of  the  citizens  was  now  transferred  to 
the  daring  offenders,  who,  with  a  strong  hand,  had  interposed 
between  the  sentence  and  the  execution  of  the  law,  and  this  last 
offence,  as  being  of  so  much  greater  magnitude  than  Holden-'s, 
cast  it  quite  into  the  shade.  Who  were  they  ?  Who  would 
have  the  audacity,  in  the  midst  of  a  law-loving  and  law-abiding 
people,  to  trample  on  the  laws  and  defy  the  State  ?  The  con 
stable  could  give  no  information.  He  had  not  even  seen  a 
person.  He  had  only  heard  a  voice  he  never  heard  before. 
Ought  not  some  persons  to  be  arrested  on  suspicion  ?  Who 
should  they  be  ?  Who  were  -obnoxious  to  suspicion  ?  The 
friends  of  the  Solitary  were  among  the  most  respectable  people 
in  the  place.  Would  it  be  safe  to  proceed  against  them  ? 
There  would  be  some  hazard  in  the  experiment.  They  would 
be  sure  to  defend  themselves  to  the  uttermost,  and  if  successful 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  199 

as  they  probably  would  be,   would  make  the   movers  in  the 
matter  rue  their  officiousness. 

Of  such  a  nature  were  the  various  questions  discussed  around 
the  hearths,  and  in  the  bank  and  shops  of  the  little  town  of 
Hillsdale.  The  excitement  was  a  perfect  god-send  to  stir  the 
sluggish  blood  of  winter.  Above  all  it  was  attractive  for  the 
mystery  that  invested  it.  But  we  will  leave  the  village  gossips 
to  beat  the  air  with  their  idle  speculations. 


200  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

I  could  endure 

Chains  nowhere  patiently :  and  chains  at  home 
Where  I  am  free  by  birthright,  not  at  all. 

COWPKR. 

BRIGHT  and  beautiful  broke  the  morning  after  that  night  of 
storm.  The  weather  had  cleared  up  towards  midnight,  and 
when  the  rejoicing  sun  surveyed  the  scene,  his  golden  glances  fell 
on  a  wide  expanse  of  pure,  unsullied  white.  A  slight  breeze  had 
arisen,  which,  gently  agitating  the  bent  and  laden  boughs  of  the 
evergreens,  shook  off  the  fleecy  adornment  that  fell  like  blos 
soms  from  the  trees.  The  air  was  soft  and  almost  balmy,  as  is 
not  infrequently  the  case  even  in  "  the  dead  of  winter"  in  our 
variable  climate,  lovelier  and  dearer  for  its  very  variableness, 
like  a  capricious  beauty,  whose  smile  is  the  more  prized  for  the 
pout  that  precedes  it.  It  was  a  day  to  seduce  the  old  man  into 
the  sunshine  in  the  stoop  on  the  south  side  of  the  house,  and  to 
bring  out  the  girls  and  young  men,  and  swift  trotting  horses  and 
pungs  and  jingling  bells  in  gay  confusion  in  the  streets. 

In  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  a  bright  crimson  sleigh,  the 
bottom  filled  with  clean  straw,  and  the  seats  covered  with  bear 
and  buffalo  robes,  the  horse  ornamented  around  the  neck  and 
back  with  strings  of  bells  that  jangled  sweet  music  every  step  he 
took,  drove  up  to  the  door  of  Judge  Bernard.  A  young  man 
stepped  out,  whom  we  recognize  as  Pownal.  He  entered  the 
house,  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned  with  Anne  Bernard,  muffled 
in  cloak  and  boa,  and  carrying  a  muff  upon  her  arm.  Health 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  201 

glowed  in  her  cheek  and  happiness  lighted  up  her  eyes.  Pownal 
assisted  her  into  the  sleigh,  and  carefully  disposing  the  robes 
about  her,  took  his  seat  by  her  side  and  drove  off. 

They  drove  at  first  into  the  older  part  of  the  town,  as  yet 
undescribed  by  us,  nor  do  we  now  intend  a  description,  save  that 
the  road  was  wide,  and  a  considerable  part  of  the  way  bordered 
by  elms  and  maples,  glorious  with  beauty  in  summer,  but  now 
standing  like  mourners  shivering  in  the  wintry  air,  and  as  they 
passed  hailed  with  special  looks  and  expressions  of  admiration 
those  two  fraternal  elms,  towering  over  all,  like  patriarchs  of 
the  vegetable  world,  which,  once  seen,  none  will  forget. 

"  Huge  trunks,  and  each  particular  trunk  a  growth 
Of  intertwisted  fibres,  serpentine, 
Upcoiling,  and  inveterately  convolved — 
Nor  uninformed  with  Phantasy  and  looks 
That  threaten  the  profane"." 

Thence,  following  the  street  that  winds  around  the  village  green, 
and  greeted  by  the  joyous  shouts  of  acquaintances  in  passing 
sleighs,  and  joining,  now  and  then,  in  friendly  races,  they  crossed 
the  upper  bridge  of  the  Yaupaae,  and  leaving  the  shouts  and 
merriment  behind,  struck  into  a  more  secluded  road. 

Whatever  charms  the  conversation  that  passed  between  the 
young  people  might  have  for  them,  it  would  not  interest  the 
reader,  and  we  therefore  pass  it  over.  It  was  such  as  might  be 
expected  between  two  youthful  beings,  one  of  whom  knew  he 
was  in  love,  and  the  other  began  to  suspect,  from  emotions  never 
felt  before,  the  commencement  of  a  partiality  that  was  as  sweet 
as  it  was  strange.  To  two  hearts  thus  attached,  and  tuned  to 
vibrate  in  harmony,  all  nature  ministers  with  a  more  gracious 
service.  The  sun  is  brighter,  the  sky  bluer,  the  flower  more 
fragrant,  the  chime  of  the  brook  has  a  deeper  meaning,  and  a 
richer  music  swells  the  throat  of  the  bird.  Things  unobserved 
before,  and  as  unconnected  with  the  new  emotion,  indifferent, 

9* 


202  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

now  assume  importance.  A  look,  a  tone  of  the  voice,  a  pres 
sure  of  the  hand,  are  events  to  dream  about  and  feast  upon. 
In  the  presence  of  the  beloved  object  all  things  else  are  either 
unheeded  or  dwindle  into  comparative  insignificance. 

It  will  occasion  no  surprise,  then,  that  Anne,  engrossed  with 
her  own  happiness,  should  hardly  have  observed  the  road  taken 
by  Pownal,  or  been  conscious  of  how  far  they  had  driven,  until 
some  remark  of  his  attracted  her  attention  to  the  scenery.  She 
then  perceived  that  they  were  in  the  midst  of  the  Indian  settle 
ment  on  the  Severn,  and  to  a  playful  question  of  Pownal, 
inquiring  how  she  would  like  to  leave  her  card  with  Queen 
Esther,  she  replied  by  expressing  her  delight  at  the  proposition. 
Esther's  cabin  stood  some  little  distance  off  from  the  main  road, 
towards  which  a  long  and  narrow  winding  track  led,  seldom 
travelled  by  any  other  vehicles  than  ox  carts  and  sleds.  Over 
the  yet  unbroken  snow,  Pownal  directed  the  horse,  the  light 
pung  plunging  with  every  motion  of  the  animal,  and  threatening 
to  upset,  causing  merriment,  however,  rather  than  alarm  to  the 
occupants  of  the  conveyance.  In  this  manner,  straining  through 
the  snow-drifts,  they  finally  reached  the  dwelling -of  Esther.  She 
herself,  attracted  by  the  sound  of  the  bells,  came  to  the  door, 
and  welcomed  them  with  great  cordiality. 

"  Mr.  Pownal  and  I,"  cried  the  lively  Anne,  "  are  come  to 
make  a  New- Year's  call,  Esther.  I  have  not  your  presents  with 
me,  but  the  next  time  you  are  at  our  house,  you  shall  have 
them." 

"  Miss  Anne  more'n  all  present,"  replied  the  pleased  Esther. 
"  She  cold  ;  she  must  come  to  the  fire." 

"  No,"  said  Anne,  as  she  was  being  ushered  by  the  squaw  into 
the  cabin,  "  I  am  not  cold.  Why,  what  a  nice  "-  -  but  the 
sentence  was  not  concluded.  Her  eyes  had  fallen  on  the  stately 
form  of  Holden,  who  sat  on  a  bench  near  to  the  fire. 

"  O,  father  Holden  !"  exclaimed  the  lovely  girl,  running  up  to 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  203 

him,  throwing  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  kissing  his  forehead, 
"  is  it  you  ?  How  glad  I  am  you  escaped  from  those  abomin 
able  men.  Tell  me  all  about  it.  How  was  it  ?  Did  they  do 
you  any  harm  ?" 

At  this  moment,  Pownal  entered,  and  advancing,  grasped  the 
old  man's  band,  and  congratulated  him  on  his  escape. 

"My  God."  said  Holden,  in  his  wild  way,  "hath  sent  His 
angel  and  shut  the  lions'  mouths  that  they  have  not  hurt  me. 
He  raiseth  the  poor  out  of  the  dust,  and  lifteth  the  needy  out 
of  the  mire." 

"  But,"  urged  Anne,  with  feminine  curiosity,  "  we  are  anxious 
to  hear  how  you  escaped." 

The  Recluse  did  not  seem  to  consider  it  necessary  to  make 
any  secret— at  least  to  those  present — of  the  events  of  the  past 
night,  and,  with  the  frankness  that  characterized  him,  spoke  of 
them  without  hesitation. 

After  stating  what  we  already  know,  he  said  he  was  led  away 
rapidly  by  a  man  dressed  in  a  sailor's  suit,  whose  face  he  did  not 
see,  and  who  accompanied  him  until  they  had  passed  the  last 
house  on  the  street.  They  met  no  one,  and,  on  parting,  the  man 
forced  a  purse  into  his  hand,  and  entreated  him  to  make  his  way 
to  the  cabin  of  Esther,  where  he  would  be  safe  and  welcome, 
and  there  to  remain  until  his  friends  should  be  apprised  of  his 
retreat. 

"To  me,"  concluded  the  Solitary,  "a  dungeon  or  a  palace 
ought  to  be  alike  indifferent ;  but  I  will  not  thwart  the  minds  of 
those  who  love  me,  however  vain  their  desires.  The  Lord  hath 
brought  this  light  affliction  upon  me  for  His  own  good  purpose, 
and  I  await  the  revelation  of  His  will." 

"I  do  not  doubt  we  shall  be  able  soon  to  release  you  from 
your  confinement,"  said  Powual  ;  "  meanwhile,  tell  us  what  we 
can  do  to  make  your  condition  tolerable." 

"  I  lack  nothing,"  said  Holden.     "  These  hands  have  ever 


204  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

supplied  iny  necessities,  and  I  am  a  stranger  to  luxury.  Nor 
liveth  man  by  bread  alone,  but  on  sweet  tones,  and  kind  looks, 
and  gracious  deeds,  and  I  am  encompassed  by  them.  I  am  rich 
above  gold,  and  silver,  and  precious  stones." 

"  If  there  is  anything  you  desire,  you  will  let  me  know  ? 
Command  me  in  all  things  ;  there  is  nothing  I  am  not  ready  to 
do  for  you,"  said  Pownal. 

"  The  blessing  of  one  who  is  ready  to  depart  be  upon  thee, 
for  thy  kind  words  and  loving  intentions  ;  and  should  real  trou 
ble  arise,  I  will  call  upon  thee  for  aid.  I  know  not  now,"  he 
continued,  "  why  I  should  hide  like  a  wounded  beast.  I  fear  'tis 
but  for  a  visionary  point  of  honor.  Why  should  not  a  gentle 
man/' — this  he  said  sarcastically — "occupy  the  work-house  as 
well  as  a  boor.  In  the  eyes  of  One,  we  are  all  equal.  Ah,  it 
might  do  this  hard  heart  good." 

"  Yon  have  promised  to  respect  the  prejudices  of  your 
friends,"  said  Pownal,  "  whatever  you  may  think  of  their  weak 


ness/ 

"You  shall  never  endure  the  disgrace,"  said  Anne,  with 
kindling  cheeks.  "  See  how  Providence  itself  interposes  to 
protect  you  !" 

"Your  suggestions,  my  children,  find  an  echo,  alas!  too 
truly  in  my  own  heart  to  be  rejected,"  said  Holden,  dejectedly. 
"  I  repeat,  I  will  obey  you." 

The  young  people  remained  for  an  hour  or  more  at  the  hut, 
conversing  with  the  Solitary,  to  whom  their  presence  appeared  to 
give  great  pleasure  ;  and,  before  parting,  Pownal  exchanged 
some  words  apart  with  Esther,  having  for  their  object  the  pro 
motion  of  her  guest's  and  her  own  comfort.  The  kind  heart  of 
the  squaw  needed  no  incentives  to  conceal  and  protect  Holden, 
but  Pownal  felt  he  had  no  right  to  encroach  upon  her  slender 
means,  and  such  arrangements  were  made  as  would  more  than 
compensate  her. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  205 

As  the  sleigh  started  from  the  door,  Anne  said  to  Pownal, 
with  some  tenderness  in  the  tone  of  her  voice : 

"  You  need  not  tell  me,  Mr.  Pownal,  the  name  of  one  of  the 
strange  Paladins  last  night.  How  will  Faith  thank  and  admire 
you.  But,  O,  let  me  beg  you  to  be  prudent,  lest  you  fall  into 
the  power  of  these  bad  men." 

It  would  have  better  suited  the  feelings  of  Pownal,  had  Anne 
uttered  her  own  thanks  more  directly.  His  inexperience  and 
distrust  of  himself  did  not  comprehend  that  it  was  in  reality  the 
way  in  which  the  modest  girl  expressed  the  admiration  that 
swelled  her  heart. 


206  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

Impelled  with  steps  unceasing  to  pursue 
Some  fleeting  good  that  mocks  me  with  the  view; 
That,  like  the  circle,  bounding  earth  and  skies, 
Allures  from  far,  and,  as  I  follow,  flies. 

GOLDSMITH. 

WHENEVER  Tom  Gladding  and  Primus  put  their  heads  toge 
ther,  it  was  pretty  certain  that  there  was  some  mischief  afoot, 
and  a  few  words  of  the  conversation,  which  we  overhear,  as 
they  walk  down  the  street  in  company,  leave  no  doubt  on  the 
subject. 

"  You  see,  Prime,"  said  Gladding,  "  the  foolish  fellow  ain't 
cured  yet." 

"  Let  iis  insult  ober  his  case,"  said  Primus. 

"  I  thought  he'd  got  enough  ;  but,  he's  as  parvarse  as  the 
nine  lives  of  a  cat.  Why,  there  was  the  whack  at  the  island, 
and,  then,  the  jam  on  the  ice,  and,  last,  the  scare  in  the  snow 
storm  ;  a  fellow's  unreasonable  to  want  more,  and,  yet,  the 
darn'd  crittur's  holding  out  his  platter." 

"  What  you  want  to  put  in,  Missa  Gladding  ?" 

"  Some  of  the  same  mess.  I  don't  care  about  hurting  him  ; 
but,  I  should  like  to  cure  him  of  his  parsecuting  ways." 

"Well,  you  is  a  good  cook.  What  you  up  to  dis  time ?"  said 
the  General,  grinning  at  the  idea  of  more  tricks. 

"  Colored  people  is  celebrated  for  their  contrivances  ;  so, 
scratch  your  wool,  and  give  us  the  benefit  of  your  genius." 

"  De  sheep  hab  no  gumption,"  said  Primus,  looking  grave  at 
this  allusion  to  his  hair. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  207 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  want  you  to  do,"  said  Tom,  taking  no 
notice  of  Primus'  gravity,  and  certain  that  the  old  fellow  was 
unable  to  resist  the  temptation  to  a  frolic  ;  "  but,  don't  let's 
stand  here  all  day  talking.  Folks  may  suspicion  something  ;  so, 
push  along,  and  I'll  give  you  my  idees." 

They  must  have  pleased  the  General,  for,  soon,  his  face  began 
to  brighten,  and  his  eyes  to  glisten  ;  and  he  parted  from  his 
companion,  apparently,  with  the  best  understanding,  and  in  the 
highest  good  humor  possible. 

In  accordance  with  the  arrangement  between  them,  the 
negro  hunted  up  Basset,  and  soon  learned  from  him,  that 
he  had  a  mittimus  to  commit  Holden.  The  cunning  fellow,  at 
first,  pretended  to  dissuade  him  from  making  use  of  it,  taking 
care,  at  the  same  time,  to  drop  a  few  words,  from  which,  it 
might  be  inferred,  there  was  no  difficulty  in  apprehending  the 
fugitive.  He,  at  last,  let  out  the  fact,  rather  unwillingly,  as  it 
seemed,  that  the  Recluse  was  in  the  habit  of  passing  his  hut,  in 
the  evening,  on  visits — as  the  General  supposed — to  his  friends 
in  the  village.  The  constable  caught  at  the  bait,  and,  having 
lost  all  fear  of  any  resistance,  on  the  part  of  the  Solitary,  per 
suaded  Primus,  with  some  difficulty,  to  allow  him  to  watch  at 
his  cabin,  for  his  prey  ;  engaging  his  assistance,  at  the  same 
time,  should  it  become  necessary.  It  was,  accordingly,  agreed, 
that  the  same  night  should  be  devoted  to  enforce  the  demands 
of  justice. 

"  Just  before  the  shades  of  evening  shut  in,  Basset — agree 
ably  to  the  preconcerted  plan,  presented  himself  at  the  hut  of 
the  General,  and  took  his  station  at  the  window  that  com 
manded,  for  quite  a  distance,  a  view  of  the  road.  The  rnooii 
was  shining,  and  her  beams,  reflected  from  the  snow,  made  it 
easy  to  distinguish  objects.  The  constable  sighed,  as  he  took 
his  seat,*and  declared  that,  in  all  his  experience,  he  never  had 
so  much  difficulty  in  his  legal  business.  It  was  the  General's 


208  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

cue  to  encourage  his  visitor,  and  keep  up  his  resolution.     He, 
therefore,  said,  in  a  cheerful  tone— 

"  Folks  say,  dere  is  nebber  no  lane  but  hab  one  turn.  Now, 
dis  is  de  turn.  See,  how  de  road  twist  round  my  house.  Dat 
is  a  good  sign." 

"  If  I  don't  git  him  this  time,"  said  Basset,  u  I  guess  I  might 
as  well  give  it  up,  and  the  State  of  Connecticut  may  just  be 
reckoned  beat." 

"  Don't  ground  you  arms  yet,  Missa  Basset.  In  de  long 
run,  de  raal  grit  allers  carry  de  day." 

"  When  I  think  it  all  over,"  said  the  constable,  musing,  "  it 
seems  kind  o'  queer.  Fm  sort  o'  bewitched,  and,  if  the  days  of 
witches  wasn't  gone  by,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  some  of  them 
hadn't  got  me  in  tow.  But,  I  ain't  going  to  give  it  up  yet.  I 
don't  forget  the  old  chap's  knocking  me  down  in  the  dark  behind 
my  back,  as  though  I'd  been  no  better  than  a  woodchuck  or  a 
skunk." 

"  How  it  feel,  Missa  Basset  ?"  inquired  Primus,  with  a  grin. 
"Did  de  old  man  strike  wid  de  soft  side  or  de  hard  side  ob  de 
cudgel  ?" 

"You  needn't  show  your  ivory,"  said  the  constable,  whom  the 
remembrance  of  his  misfortune  irritated  •  "  I  wish  to  conscience 
you'd  felt  it  yourself ;  you'd  have  known,  then,  without  the  need' 
of  asking  questions." 

"  Golly  !  Missa  Basset,"  exclaimed  Primus.  "  You  tink 
nobody  hab  feeling  but  yousef.  You  gib  my  arm  sich  a  winch 
when  de  ole  man  kick  you  behind,  or  knock  you  ober  (I  nebber 
know  which)  dat  I  feel  him  now." 

"He  didn't  kick  me,"  said  Basset,  indignantly.  "'Twas  a 
regular  assault  with  a  club,  I  tell  you." 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  like  sich  salt  on  my  shoulder,  aldo  dey 
say,  salt  bery  good  to  keep  de  wound  from  catching  cold." 

"  I    tell    you    what,   darkey,"   cried   the   constable,   losing 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  209 

patience  at  the  other's  sneers.  "  You  talk  like  an  old  fool.  If 
you  hain't  got  anything  pleasanter  to  say,  you  might  as  well 
shut  up." 

"Yes,  I  be  an  old  fool,"  said  Primus,  as  if  speaking  to  him 
self,"  and  dis  is  all  de  tank  I  git  from  dis  white  man.  I  depose 
my  life  on  de  ribber.  I  git  a'most  murdered  when  de  ghost 
kick  him  behind  ;  he  break  my  leg  made  out  ob  a  good  piece  ob 
ash  ;  I  invite  him  to  my  house,  like  a  gen'leman,  and  de  civilest 
word  I  get,  is — darkey  and  old  fool.  Yes,  Primus,  you  com 
plexion  is  dark,  and  you  be  a  big  fool." 

"  Don't  take  on  so,  Prime,"  said  Basset  ;  "  I  spoke  rash,  and 
I  ask  your  pardon.  But,  what's  the  use  of  aggravating  a  man 
in  that  way  !" 

"  I  tink  you  must  'scuse  my  keeping  company  wid  you,  arter 
to-night,"  continued  Primus,  looking  steadily  into  the  fire,  and 
knitting  his  brows  ;  "  I  nebber  get  noting  but  bad  luck  in  his 
sarvice.  Next  time,  I  git  my  necjj  broke,  and  den  'tis  all  done 
wid  dis  poor  niggur.  De  carpenter  find  hard  work  to  make  one 
to  fit." 

"  ISTow,  Prime,"  said  Basset,  "  you're  rather  too  hard.  I  asked 
your  pardon,  and  that's  all  a  man  can  do.  I'm  sure  I  didn't 
mean  to  set  you  agoing  at  this  rate." 

"  It  bery  easy,  Massa  Basset,  to  say  I  ask  you  pardon,  and 
bery  polite  for  a  white  man  to  say  it  to  a  colored  pusson,  but 
does  dat  pay  for  de  breaking  ob  a  leg  or  de  setting  ob  my 
neck  ?" 

"  What  did  it  cost  to  mend  your  leg  ?" 

"  I  gib  Fannin,  de  carpenter,  a  halb  dollar  for  a  new  one 
dat  wasn't  half  so  good  as  de  ole  one." 

"  Well,  I  vow,  that's  considerable  for  an  old  stick,  'cause  I 
know  there  wasn't  no  new  iron  work  about  it,  for  you  had  the 
old  ferule  left ;  but  seeing  as  how  I  broke  it,  I'll  split  the  differ- 


210  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

ence  with  you,  so  there's  a  quarter.     But  why  didn't  you  speak 
of  it  afore  ?" 

"  'Cause,"  said  Primus,  taking  the  money  with  eyes  brighten 
ing  at  the  sight,  "  'tween  gen'lemen,  de  trifle  was  too  small." 

"  Well,  you're  a  curious  chap.  Now  most  folks  would  have 
dunned  me  right  off  for  the  damage.  There's  Tom  Gladding, 
if  he  had  a  wooden  leg,  and  I  broke  it,  don't  you  suppose  he'd 
make  me  settle  before  sunset  next  day  ?  Besides  the  law  was 
all  on  your  side." 

"  I  guess,  Massa  Gladding  'tend  to  business  in  his  own  way," 
said  the  now  good-humored  General,  "  but  you,  Squire,  is  an  old 
'quaintance,  and  you  disappointment  so  great,  I  didn't  like  to 
mention  de  leg. 

As  soon  as  Primus  uttered  the  word  "  Squire,"  Basset  knew 
that  the  reconciliation  between  them  was  complete.  The  Gene 
ral  never  used  the  word  in  reference  to  his  companion,  except 
when  pleased  and  desirous  to  pay  a  compliment,  and  was  fully 
aware  of  the  effect  it  produced.  The  constable,  born  and  bred 
among  a  people  fond  of  titles,  and  fond  of  giving  them,  was 
not  exempt  from  the  common  weakness.  He,  however,  thought 
it  incumbent  on  him  to  disclaim  the  dignity,  to  which  Primus 
answered,  that  if  he  were  not  a  Squire  he  ought  to  be,  and 
would  be  next  year. 

A  tall  figure,  which,  from  the  gait  and  dress,  appeared  to  be 
that  of  Holden,  was  now  seen  approaching  deliberately  in  the 
moonlight,  and  the  constable  addressed  himself  to  the  perform 
ance  of  his  duty.  It  was  thought  best  to  allow  the  fugitive  to 
pass  the  cabin,  so  that  in  the  event  of  an  attempt  at  evasion, 
which  was  not  anticipated  indeed,  but  which  the  prudent  Gene 
ral  thought  ought  to  be  guarded  against,  the  difficulty  of  escape 
might  be  greater.  As  the  man  advanced,  the  constable  was 
certain  it  was  Holden.  There  was  the  long  beard  falling  on  his 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  211 

breast,  and  the  grey  frock  girt  with  a  sash  ;  and  had  not  the 
cap  been  pulled  down  low  over  his  forehead,  even  the  features 
might  have  been  distinguishable. 

After  the  person  had  passed,  Basset  cautiously  opened  the 
door  and  quietly  stole  after  him,  but,  in  spite  of  every  precau 
tion,  it  was  impossible  to  move  without  making  a  sound  on  the 
crisp  snow,  easily  heard  in  the  still  night.  The  person  heard 
it,  and  turning  his  head,  beheld  the  constable  two  or  three  rods 
in  the  rear.  Basset  observing  him  look  round,  quickened  his 
pace,  and  advanced  confidently  to  make  the  capture  ;  but  in  the 
same  proportion  the  figure  hastened  his  steps.  Thereupon  the 
constable  increased  his  speed,  in  which  he  was  imitated  by  the 
other,  until  both  pursuer  and  pursued  were  in  a  run. 

It  was  now  who  should  run  the  fastest.  The  race  had  hitherto 
been  in  the  road,  and  Basset  was  evidently  gaining  on  the  fugi 
tive,  when,  turning  short,  the  latter  jumped  over  some  bars 
which  had  been  left  down,  and  directed  his  course  across  a  field. 
The  constable's  blood  was  up,  and  without  hesitation,  he  fol 
lowed,  every  moment  lessening  the  distance  between  himself  and 
the  chase.  He  could  not  help,  as  he  ran,  wondering  at  the 
agility  of  Holdeii,  from  whom,  on  account  of  his  seeming  age, 
he  had  not  anticipated  such  activity,  and  ascribed  it  now  to  his 
greater  length  of  limb,  and  habit  of  constant  exercise  and 
exposure.  And  now  he  was  within  a  few  feet  of  him,  and 
extending  his  arm  to  place  his  hand  on  the  captive's  shoulder, 
when  suddenly  the  ground  gave  way  under  his  feet,  and  he  was 
precipitated  to  an  unknown  depth,  while  the  snow  came  tumbling 
down  upon  his  head,  blinding  and  covering  him  up,  so  as  to  leave 
him  at  first  in  total  darkness.  The  astonished  and  confused 
constable,  by  dint  of  struggling  and  floundering  about,  suc 
ceeded  at  length  in  disencumbering  himself  of  the  superincum 
bent  load  of  snow  and  corn-stalks,  and  was  able  to  form  an  idea 
of  his  situation.  He  found  himself  in  a  large  hole,  at  a  depth 


212  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

of  six  or  seven  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  ground,  to  escape 
from  which  every  effort  proved  fruitless.     In  vain  the  entrapped 
Basset  sprung  up  the  sides  again  and  again,  and  grasped  at  the 
snow,  in  hope  to  catch  hold  of  some  object  on  which  to  retain 
a  hold  ;  it  yielded  to  his  hands,  and  every  time  he  fell  back 
more  and  more  exhausted.     He  endeavored  to  attract  assistance 
by  shouting,  but  it  seemed  as  if  his  voice  mounted  no  higher 
than  to  the  top  of  the  hole.     He  looked  up.     Nothing  was  to 
be  seen  but  the  moon  gazing  sadly  upon  him,  and  the  stars  wink 
ing  at  him  their  glittering  eyes.      Frightened  and  vexed,  he 
threw  himself  upon  the  bottom  of  the  hole,  then  got  up,  and 
dashing  down  his  cap,  stamped  upon  it  in  ungovernable  rage, 
vowing  vengeance  against  the  traitor,  Primus,  who,  he  did  not 
doubt,  had  led  him  into  the  snare.     At  first  the  violent  exercise, 
and  next  vexation  and  resentment,  kept  him  warm  :  but  gradu 
ally  the  effect  of  the  first  passed  off,  and  then  the  latter,  without 
its  aid,  was  found  ineffectual  to  ward  off  the  cold.     The  teeth 
of  poor  Basset  began  to  chatter,  and  tears  of  anger  and  appre 
hension  fell  from  his  eyes.     He  started  up,  and  again  tried  the 
walls  of  his  prison,  but  they  were  too  steep,  and  too  slippery,  to 
permit  exit,  and  at  last,  with  desperate  calmness,  he  resigned 
himself  to  his  fate,  and  awaited  such  result  as  Providence  might 
send.     The  thought  of  starvation  and  freezing  to  death  passed 
through  his  mind,  but  he  was  too  fully  convinced  of  the  com 
plicity  of  the  black  to  believe  he  was  ignorant  of  his  condition, 
and  satisfied  that,  however  tricky,  he  intended  no  serious  harm. 
There  was  comfort  in  the  thought,  and  as  these  reflections  pre 
vailed  he  became  more  composed,  while  a  sense  of  shame  suc 
ceeded  to  that  of  despair.     Shrugging  himself  together  to  keep 
warm,  and  lifting  up  his  voice  from  time  to  time  in  a  shout,  if, 
perchance,  some  casual  wayfarer  might  catch  the  sound,  the  con 
stable  waited  for  deliverance. 

Meanwhile,  Gladding,  for  it  was  no  other,  who  personated 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  213 

the  Solitary,  and  the  General  were  cozily  seated  by  the  fire  in 
the  hut  of  the  latter,  discussing  the  events-  of  the  evening. 
The  false  beard  was  lying  on  a  chair,  and  a  large  stone  pitcher, 
containing  cider,  was  placed  near  the  centre  of  a  table,  on 
which  the  elbow  of  Tom  was  leaning,  who,  from  time  to  time, 
replenished  a  mug  with  the  liquor,  which  made  frequent  jour 
neys  to  his  mouth.  The  old  General,  with  his  pipe,  was  seated 
on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  and  appeared  as  fervent  in  his 
devotions  to  the  pitcher  as  his  guest. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Prime,"  said  Tom,  "  I  come  plaguy  nigh 
tumbling  in  myself.  I  thought  I  marked  the  spot  exactly,  but 
somehow  or  other  the  snow  light  sort  o'  blinded  me,  and  I 
stepped  right  on  the  edge,  and  had  to  spring  for't  like  all  naturV 

"Dat  would  a  been  fust  rate,  to  catch  two  fox  in  one  trap,'7 
said  the  General,  the  whites  of  whose  eyes  gleamed  plainer 
than  ever  in  the  fire  light  at  the  thought. 

"Fun  for  you,  but  not  for  me  by  a  long  chalk.  Basset 
would  have  the  best  on't,  too,  for  he'd  have  come  right  top  on 
me.  How  the  crittur  would  have  crowed  I" 

"  I  hear  him  crow  two  or  tree  time  already,"  said  Primus, 
who  had  been  to  the  door  several  times,  and  could  detect  faint 
sounds  whenever  the  imprisoned  Basset  shouted. 

"  Let  him  try  his  lungs  a  little  longer.  It  will  clear  his  voice 
for  singing  school.  I  guess  I  must  go  to  meeting  next  Sabbath, 
if  for  nothing  else,  to  hear  him  perform." 

"  But  I  'fraid  de  poor  man  freeze,"  said  the  compassionate 
General. 

"  Never  fear,  'twon't  hurt  him.  It  will  do  him  good  to  freeze 
some  of  the  ugliness  out  of  him.  Besides  it's  best  to  wait 
awhile.  Perhaps,  somebody  coming  along  will  help  him  out, 
and  that  will  save  you  the  trouble." 

"  Me  !  Missa  Gladding  !  what  hab  I  to  do  wid  it  ?  You 
put  him  dere,  and  you  is  de  one  to  pull  him  out." 


214  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"  Don't  be  onreasonable,  Prime,  now.  You  see,  if  I  should 
go,  he'd  know,  of  course,  all  about  it.  Why,  he'd  recollect  the 
clothes,  and  next  thing  I  should  be  took  up  for  assault  and 
battery." 

"  And  who  save  me  from  being  took  up  ?" 

"  0,  there  ain't  no  danger  of  that.  They  can't  git  no  hold 
on  ye.  You  can  say  you  hearn  crying  for  help,  and  didn't  know 
but  what  Holden  had  turned  on  him,  and  so  come  to  assist." 

Primus  shook  his  head  dubiously.  He  hardly  knew  what  to 
reply,  yet  was  evidently  disinclined  to  the  adventure.  For  that 
reason,  perhaps,  he  allowed  Basset  to  remain  in  durance  longer 
than  his  own  good-nature  prompted,  in  the  hope  that  relief 
might  arrive  from  some  other  quarter. 

"  I  vow,"  at  last  exclaimed  Gladding,  "  if  I  don't  believe 
you're  afraid  Basset  will  give  you  a  licking." 

"  Basset,  nor  no  oder  man,  ebber  see  de  day  nor  night  to 
make  me  'fraid,"  said  the  valorous  General,  whose  natural  cou 
rage  was  a  little  stimulated  by  the  cider  he  had  been  drinking, 
starting  up  and  preparing  for  his  expedition.  "But,  Missa 
Gladding,  you  promise  to  stand  by  me  if  dis  scrape  go  any 
furder." 

"  Sartainly,"  answered  Tom,  "  I  never  left  a  friend  in  the 
lurch,  I  tell  you." 

"  Gib  us  you  hand  on  dat." 

Tom  extended  a  great  sledge-hammer  fist,  and  the  two  shook 
hands  in  sign  of  inviolable  fidelity." 

"Now,*  said  Tom,  "I  guess,  I'll  make  myself  scarce.  I 
wouldn't  have  him  see  me  in  this  rig  for  all  the  cider  I  drank  to 
night.  There's  some  left  in  the  old  pitcher,  so  fetch  him  along, 
and  comfort  the  critter's  heart  with  a  few  swigs." 

With  these  words,  Tom  took  his  leave,  first  altering  some 
what  the  disposition  of  his  garments,  divesting  himself  of  the 
sash,  placing  the  cap  higher  on  his  brows,  and  depositing  the 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  215 

false  beard  in  his  pocket,  while  Primus,  lighting  a  fresh  pipe, 
sallied  forth  011  his  errand  of  benevolence. 

As  he  approached  he  could  hear  plainer  the  halloo  which 
Basset  occasionally  emitted  from  his  trap.  The  ears  of  the  lat 
ter  sharpened  by  expectation,  caught  the  sound  of  the  advanc 
ing  steps,  while  as 'yet  the  deliverer  was  at  too  great  a  distance 
to  see  the  hole,  and  his  cries  for  assistance  were  redoubled. 

"  Help  !"  he  cried,  "  help  !  They  want  to  murder  me.  This 
way— here,  in  the  old  well— this  way— 0,  Lord  !" 

Such  were  the  cries  that  saluted  the  ears  of  Primus,  as  soon 
as  he  was  near  enough  to  distinguish  articulate  sounds. 
"  Who  dere  ?"  cried  the  General. 

"0,  Prime,  help  us  out  of  this  tarnation  hole/'  groaned 
Basset. 

"  Onpossible  !  can  dis  be  you,  Missa  Basset  ?"  inquired 
Primus,  peering  over  the  edge  of  the  pit.  "  How  come  you 
dere  ?" 

"  Don't  ask  no  questions,  now,  though,  I  guess,  you  know  as 
well  as  me." 

"  His  head  turn  wid  de  scare,  probumbly,"  soliloquized 
Primus,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  captive.  "  I  curus  to 
larn  how  you  fall  in.  Ebberybody  know  dis  hole,  Missa 
Basset." 

"  Haul  me  out,  and  I'll  let  you  know." 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  voice  that  did  not  at 
all  please  the  General,  so  looking  around,  and  observing  no  one 
in  sight,  for  it  was  a  lonely  place,  and  having  all  the  advantage 
on  his  side,  he  resolved  to  parley,  and  secure  satisfactory  terms 
before  he  delivered  the  prisoner. 

"I  bery  sorry  for  you,  Missa  Basset,"  he  said,  "and  if  you 
wait  awhile,  I  go  to  de  village  to  git  a  rope  to  haul  you  out." 

But  this  proposition  was  far  from  suiting  the  constable. 
Now  that  assistance  was  near  at  hand,  he  dreaded  to  lose  it  out 


216  THE      LOST     HUNTEH. 

of  sight  or  hearing.  He  kuew  there  was  no  necessity  for  pro 
curing  any  rope,  and  feared  that  if  Primus  put  his  threatened 
plan  into  execution,  he  would  bring  along  with  him  a  rabble  of 
men  and  boys,  to  jeer  at  and  ridicule  his  sufferings.  This  now 
seemed  worse  than  all  he  had  already  endured  ;  he  was,  there 
fore,  willing  to  make  any  compromise  to  avert  the  disaster. 

"'Don't  go,  don't  go,  Prime,"  begged  the  constable.  "Just 
give  us  your  hand,  and  pull  us  out  of  this  infarnal  place. 
There's  no  need  of  any  rope." 

"  But  suppose  you  pull  me  in  arter  you,  what  we  do  den  ? 
De  fire  would  be  all  in  de  fat.  Beside,  you  talk  as  if  you 
respect  me.  No,  I  tink  I  be  safer  if  oder  folks  be  here,  too." 

"0,  Prime,"  whined  Basset,  "you  hain't  no  better  friend  in 
the  world  than  me,  and  no  more  bowels  of  marcy  than  a  stump. 
I  tell  ye,  I  don't  suspect  you.  Lend  us  a  hand,  and  I'll  never 
forget  it,  the  longest  day  I  have  to  live." 

"Well,"  said  the  General,  "you  must  make  us  a  promise, 

fust." 

"  What  promise  ?  I'll  make  any  promise  you  please,  only  do 
help  us  out.  I'm  'most  dead  with  cold." 

"You  must  promise  nebber  to  say  any  ting  about  dis  night. 
Dere's  'spicious  folks  round,  like  de  doctor,  and  when  dey  hear 
you  git  catch  like  a  rat  in  a  trap,  dey  is  likely  to  say,  '  Ah,  dat 
is  dat  old  niggur  Primus's  work/  and  so  I  lose  my  good  charac 
ter.  De  innocent  man  must  be  like  de  weasel  dat  is  nebber 
catch  asleep." 

It  went  hard  against  the  grain,  for  the  constable  to  make  the 
promise,  but  there  was  no  alternative  except  remaining  there,  he 
knew  not  how  long,  finally  to  be  extricated  by  a  laughing 
crowd.  With  a  very  ill  grace,  therefore,  he  promised  all  that 
Primus  required,  and  would  have  bound  himself  to  ten  times 
more,  if  necessary  ;  but  the  General  was  generous,  and  asked 
only  security  for  the  future,  having  no  indemnity  to  demand  for 


T  H  E      L  0  S  T      H  U  N  T  E  R  .  £  • 

the  past.     Planting  his  sound  foot  firmly  in  the  snow,  the  Cre;;' 
ral  extended  his  hand,  which  being  grasped  by  Basset,  he  TV 
soon  delivered  from  thraldom. 

"What's  to  hender  me  now,  you  infernal  darkey,"  exclaimed 
the  exasperated  constable,  as  soon  as  he  found  himself  in  tl»« 
upper  air,  "  from  throwing  you  into  the  well,  and  letting  you  ro 
there  !" 

"What  to  hender,  Missa  Basset  ?"  returned  the  General,  st< 
ping  back.     "You  own  feelings,  Missa  Basset.     But  you  ci-.n 
try  it  if  you  please,"  he  added,  letting  fall  his  arms  by  his  sicks, 
which,  at  the  threatening  tone  of  the  constable,  he  had  raised 
instinctively  in  self-defence. 

But  the  other  seemed  more  disposed  to  allow  his  anger  to 
explode  in  words  than  to  resort  to  violence. 

"  To  be  chucked  into  a  hole  like  a  dead  cat,  by  a  cunning  old 
wool  head,  was  more'n  mortal  man  could  bear,"  he  said,  "and  he 
didn't  know  why  he  shouldn't  knock  out  his  black  brains,  on  the 
spot." 

"  You  can  try  de  'speriment,  if  you  please,"  said  Primu.s, 
cooly,  "  and  when  dey  is  knock  out,  I  advise  you  to  gadder  dern 
up  for  you  own  use." 

"You're  a  saacy  nigger,"  said  Basset,  "and  if  I  sarved  you 
right,  I'd  clap  you  into  the  work-house." 

"  Missa  Basset,  you  bery  mad  ;  and  when  a  man  is  mad,  he 
always  onreasonable.  But  fire  away — it  keep  you  warm,  and 
stop  you  catching  cold." 

"  Onreasonable  !  when  a  fellow's  been  sprawling  about  in 
snow  and  cornstalks,  for  more'n  two  hours,  and  got  more'n  half 
froze  !  How  would  you  like  it  ?" 

"  If  Missa  Basset  chase  Missa  Holden,  in  de  moonlight,  and 
fall  into  a  hole,  is  I  to  blame  ?" 

"  I  don't  believe  it  was  Holden.  I  believe  it  was  all  a  plan 
between  you  and  some  other  fellow  to  git  me  into  the  scrape. 

10 


218  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

Come,  now,  Prime,"  he  said,  moderating  his  voice  into  a  less  ill- 
natured  tone,  "tell  us,  and  I'll  let  you  off  this  time." 

"  0,  Lord  !"  exclaimed  Primus,  lifting  up  his  hands,  with  open 
palms,  and  rolling  up  his  eyes  towards  the  moon,  "  de  man  is 
crazy  wid  de  fright,  and  he  see  Missa  Holden,  too,  widin  two 
tree  feet." 

He  turned  now  on  his  way  home,  as  if  disdaining  longer  con 
verse  with  one  who  refused  to  listen  to  reason.  The  constable 
followed  at  his  side,  growling  the  whole  way,  and  reproaching 
the  General  with  his  perfidy,  the  latter  protesting  it  was  Bas 
set's  own  fault,  "when  he  knew  dere  was  a  hole  dere,"  and  that 
he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him,  or  with  the  cunning  old 
man,  for  the  future.  Upon  arriving  at  the  bars,  Primus,  not 
withstanding  his  indignation  at  the  suspicion  cast  on  his  honor, 
courteously  invited  Basset  to  take  a  drink  with  him,  but  the 
latter,  suspecting,  perhaps,  another  snare,  was  in  no  humor  to 
accept  the  invitation  ;  and,  turning  away  without  even  noticing 
the  black's  good-night,  directed  hasty  steps  towards  the  lights 
of  the  town. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  219 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

u  Who  called  you  forth  from  night  and  utter  death, 
From  dark  and  icy  caverns,  called  you  forth, 
Down  those  precipitous  black-jagged  rocks, 
For  ever  shattered,  and  the  same  for  ever  ? 
Who  gave  you  your  invulnerable  life, 
Your  strength,  your  speed,  your  fury,  and  your  joy, 
Unceasing  thunder  and  eternal  foam?" 

COLERIDGE. 

WILLIAM  BERNARD  bad,  of  late,  been  more  than  usually 
attracted  to  the  society  of  Faith.  In  habits  of  familiar  inter 
course  with  the  family  of  the  Armstrongs,  from  his  childhood, 
and  admitted  to  almost  the  same  degree  of  intimacy  which 
exists  between  brothers  and  sisters  with  the  little  black-eyed 
girl  whom,  in  winter,  he  drew  on  his  sled,  with  Anne,  to  school, 
and,  to  fill  whose  apron,  he  shook  chestnuts  and  walnuts  from  the 
trees,  in  autumn,  he  and  Faith  had  never  had,  during  the  earlier 
period  of  their  acquaintance,  feelings  other  than  those  attaching 
one  to  another,  members  of  the  same  household.  The  fact  that 
Faith  had  no  brother,  taken  in  connection  with  her  love  for 
Anne,  had  caused  her  to  lean  more  on  William,  and  be  willing  to 
call  upon  him  for  a  thousand  little  services,  which  he  was  as 
ready  to  grant  as  she  to  ask.  These,  in  the  years  of  childhood, 
were  rewarded  by  a  kiss,  or  permission  to  ride  on  her  rocking- 
horse, -or  to  make  calls,  with  Anne  and  herself,  on  their  dolls, 
and  so  forth  ;  but  as  years  rolled  on,  and  vague  feelings  and 
shadowy  intimations  assumed  definiteness,  a  delicate  veil  of 
reserve  imperceptibly  interposed  itself,  as  effectual  to  bar  the 
former  familiarity  as  if  a  Chinese  wall  had  been  built  between 


220  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

them.  Yet,  for  years,  no  warmer  sentiment  succeeded  ;  and, 
though  William  Bernard  felt  pleasure  in  the  society  of  his  beau 
tiful  neighbor,  he  experienced  no  uneasiness  in  her  absence. 

But  a  change  was  destined  to  take  place  which,  indeed,  it  is 
surprising  had  not  sooner  occurred.  William  found  himself,  he 
hardly  knew  how,  more  frequently  in  the  company  of  his  sister's 
lovely  friend,  notwithstanding  it  was  with  a  more  timid  step  he 
sought  the  dwelling  of  Mr.  Armstrong.  For  it  seemed  to  him 
as  if  the  little  community  were  beginning  to  suspect  the  exist 
ence  of  those  feelings  which,  like  the  morning  glory,  shrink  from 
the  rays  of  the  sun.  They  were  too  delicate  for  inspection. 
They  were  like  the  wing  of  the  butterfly  or  the  plumage  of  the 
humming-bird,  which  cannot  be  handled  without  being  tarnished. 
Hence,  though  longing  to  enter  the  house  as  in  his  schoolboy 
days,  were  it  only  to  catch  for  a  moment  the  sounds  of  Faith's 
voice  or  a  glimpse  of  her  face,  he  would  content  himself  with 
merely  passing  by,  deriving  a  satisfaction  from  the  consciousness 
of  being  nearer  to  her.  and  of  gazing  on  the  house  beautified  by 
her  presence.  Besides,  as  his  feelings  became  more  interested, 
his  distrust  of  himself  increased.  The  heart  of  the  bold,  young 
man,  which  real  danger  had  never  disturbed,  fluttered  like  a 
caught  bird  at  the  voice  of  Faith,  more  and  more,  and  he 
hesitated  to  make  an  avowal  which  might,  indeed,  crown  his 
hopes,  but  which  might,  also,  dash  them  to  the  ground.  For 
he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  that  Faith,  so  far  from  giving 
him  encouragement  as  a  lover,  had  never  even  appeared  to 
suspect  his  feelings.  Her  conduct  had  always  been  the  same, 
the  same  unreserved  confidence,  the  same  frank,  unconstrained 
deportment.  She  spoke  to  him  as  freely  as  ever  of  her  hopes 
and  fears  ;  she  took  his  arm  as  readily,  nor  did  a  blush  welcome 
his  coming  or  a  tremor  of  the  voice  signalize  his  departure. 

.  Young  ladies  are  usually  sharp-sighted  enough  in  detecting 
admiration,  and  fathoming  the  heart  of  a  lover,  and  some  may 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  221 

think  her  want  of  penetration  strange.  If  so,  I  must  entreat 
indulgence  for  my  simple  Faith.  Be  the  circumstances  remem 
bered  in  which  she  was  placed  and  had  grown  up  ;  her  child-like 
innocence  and  purity,  unacquainted  with  the  world,  her  seclusion 
from  society,  the  intimacy  that  had  always  existed  between  her 
and  young  Bernard,  which  continued  to  make  many  attentions 
that  would  have  been  marked  in  another,  natural  and  expected 
from  him,  and  the  want  of  all  preoccupation  in  his  favor,  and 
the  surprise  of  the  keen-sighted  will  diminish.  Is  not  an  inex 
perienced  and  modest  girl  slow  to  suspect  in  another,  emotions 
towards  herself  of  a  kind  which  she  has  never  felt  ? 

William  Bernard,  then,  had  never  told  his  love,  nor  did 
Miss  Armstrong  dream  of  its  existence.  To  her  he  was  the  dear 
friend  of  her  childhood,  and  nothing  more.  His  mother  and 
sister  suspected  the  condition  of  his  heart,  and  it  was  with  calm 
satisfaction  in  the  former,  and  a  glow  of  delight  in  the  latter, 
that  they  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  the  attentions  and 
amiable  qualities  of  the  son  and  brother  should  ripen  the  friend 
ship  of  the  unimpassioned  beauty  into  love.  Of  this  result, 
with  a  pardonable  partiality  they  did  not  doubt.  With  this 
explanation  of  the  feelings  of  the  two  young  people  towards  each 
other  at  this  time,  we  will  accompany  them  on  a  morning  walk 
to  the  Falls  of  the  Yaupaae. 

It  was  one  of  those  bright,  glorious  days  which  the  poet 
Herrick  calls  the  "bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky."  From  a 
heaven  intensely  blue,  the  sun,  without  a  cloud,  "  looked  like  a 
God "  over  his  dominions.  Some  rain  had  fallen  in  the  night, 
and  the  weather  suddenly  clearing  up  towards  morning,  had 
hardened  the  moisture  into  ice.  Every  bush,  every  tree,  the 
fences,  were  covered  with  a  shining  mail,  from  which  and  from 
the  crisped  surface  of  the  snow,  the  rays  of  the  sun  were 
reflected,  and  filled  the  air  with  a  sparkling  light.  Transmuted, 
a-s  by  a  magician's  wand,  the  bare  trees  were  no  longer  ordinary 


222  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

trees.  They  were  miracles  of  vegetable  silver  and  crystal. 
Mingled  among  them,  the  evergreens  glittered  like  masses  of 
emerald  hung  with  diamonds.  Aladdin,  in  the  enchanted 
cavern,  saw  not  so  brilliant  a  spectacle. 

The  narrow  road  which  led  to  the  Falls  descended  a  declivity, 
where  it  left  the  main  street  until  it  came  to  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  surface  of  the  river,  then  curving  round  the  base  of  the 
hill,  it  skirted  the  winding  margin  of  the  stream  until  it  ascended 
another  hill,  on  the  top  of  which,  from  a  platform  of  level  rock, 
one  of  the  finest  views  was  commanded.  The  path  was  slippery 
with  ice,  and  in  descending  the  declivity  the  arm  of  Bernard  was 
necessary  to  support  the  uncertain  steps  of  his  companion.  It 
was  with  a  sort  of  tremor  he  offered  it,  of  which  Faith  was  all 
unconscious.  She  took  it  without  hesitation,  and  stepping 
cautiously  over  the  glazed  surface,  and  laughing  at  each  other's 
slips,  the  young  couple  pursued  their  walk.  On  their  right  was 
a  steep  hill,  rising  in  some  places  to  a  height  of  one  hundred 
feet  above  their  heads,  covered  over,  for  a  considerable  distance 
along  the  road,  with  the  perennial  beauty  of  the  graceful  hem 
lock  and  savin,  now  resplendent  in  jewels  ;  and  on  the  left  the 
Yaupaae,  its  frozen  level  hid  in  snow,  out  of  which  the  trees 
and  shrubs  on  the  little  islands  raised  their  silver  armor  glitter 
ing  in  the  sun.  In  the  distance,  and  visible  from  the  greater 
part  of  the  road,  the  river,  in  a  narrow  chasm,  dashed  down  the 
rocks.  An  unusual  quantity  of  snow  had  lately  fallen,  which, 
having  been  succeeded  by  heavy  rains,  had  swollen  the  stream 
to  more  than  double  its  ordinary  size.  It  was  evident  that, 
what  in  the  language  of  the  country  is  called  a  freshet  was  com 
mencing.  Such  is  the  name  given  to  those  swellings  of  the 
water,  the  most  formidable  of  which  commonly  occur  in  the 
month  of  February,  or  early  in  the  Spring,  when  the  over 
charged  rivers,  bursting  their  boundaries  and  overflowing  the 
neighboring  lowlands,  sometimes  occasion  great  damage  to 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  223 

property,  sweeping  away  bridges,  and  mills,  and  dams,  with 
irresistible  violence. 

The  roaring  of  the  Falls  had  been  long  distinguishable,  but,  it 
was  not  until  the  first  curve  in  the  road  had  been  turned,  that 
they  came  into  sight." 

"Look  !  Faith/'  cried  Bernard,  as  they  burst  into  view;  "  did 
you  ever  see  them  more  magnificent  ?" 

The  attention  of  the  young  lady  had  been,  hitherto,  too  much 
engrossed  by  the  necessity  of  watching  her  footsteps  down  the 
descent,  to  give  much  heed  to  surrounding  objects  ;  but,  now, 
she  looked  up,  having  reached  the  comparatively  level  spot, 
which  extended  as  far  as  the  second  hill  or  rising  ground  above 
mentioned,  and  felt  all  the  admiration  expressed  by  her  com 
panion. 

"  They  are  grand,"  she  replied.  "  I  have  beheld  this  view  a 
thousand  times,  and  never  weary  of  its  beauty.  I  do  not  know 
whether  I  love  it  more  in  summer  or  in  winter." 

"  How  would  you  express  the  difference  of  your  feelings,  then 
and  now?" 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  not  the  skill  to  put  the  feeling  into 
words.  But,  the  impression,  on  a  day  like  this,  is  of  a  magnifi 
cence  and  splendor  unusual  to  the  earth.  In  summer,  the 
beauty  though  less  astonishing,  is  of  a  softer  character." 

"  You  would  rather  listen  to  the  song  of  the  robin,  and  of 
our  northern  mocking-bird,  than  to  the  roaring  of  the  angry 
river  ?" 

"  There  is  no  anger  in  the  sound,  William,"  she  replied,  look 
ing  up  into  his  face  ;  "It  is  the  shout  of  praise  to  its  Creator, 
and  the  dashing  of  the  torrents  over  the  rocks  are  the  clapping 
of  its  hands." 

"  You  are  right,  Faith.  How  much  better  you  are  tuned  to 
the  meanings  of  nature  than  I  !" 

"  You  do  yourself  injustice.     It  was  your  love  of  all  this 


224  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

Beauty  that  induced  you  to  invite  me  to  this  walk.     Without 
you  I  should  have  missed  it,  nor  known  what  I  had  lost." 

William  Bernard  sighed.  She  has  not,  he  thought,  the  least 
suspicion  that  I  love  her.  She  does  not  know,  and  would  not 
t-are  if  she  did,  that,  by  her  side,  the  only  prospect  I  behold 
is  herself,  and  the  invitation  to  this  stroll  but  a  pretext  to 
Approach  her. 

"Your  presence,  dear  Faith,"  said  he,  "imparts  a  double 
charm  to  the  scenery." 

"  It  is  sweet,"  she  answered,  leaning,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  at 
the  moment,  more  affectionately  on  his  arm,  "  to  have  one  to 
whom  we  can  say,  how  lovely  is  all  this  loveliness." 

"  The  sentiment  of  the  Poet  never  seemed  so  true  before,"  said 
Bernard,  looking  at  her  with  admiration. 

She  made  no  reply,  for  her  whole  soul  was  absorbed  by  the 
view  before  her. 

They  had  arrived  at  the  platform,  which,  somewhat  higher 
than  the  Fall,  commands  a  prospect  of  the  river  and  surrounding 
country.  Below  them  foamed  and  thundered  the  torrent,  which, 
lirst,  making  a  leap  some  twenty  feet  down,  over  large,  irre 
gularly-shaped  boulders  of  granite,  that  strove  to  oppose  its 
passage,  rushed  in  a  steep  descent  over  a  bed  of  solid  stone, 
irregularly  worn  by  the  action  of  the  water  ;  and,  then,  con 
tracting  itself  between  its  adamantine  walls,  burst  in  distracted 
fury,  like  a  maniac,  from  the  narrow  throat.  Against  the  oppos 
ing  rocks,  which,  perhaps,  had  fallen  into  the  Yaupaae,  when 
the  fierce  convulsion  of  nature  opened  the  chasm,  and  bade  the 
river  pour  down  the  gorge — the  water  lashed  with  ceaseless 
rage,  throwing  the  spray  high  into  the  air.  This,  freezing  as  it 
fell,  encrusted  the  rough  sides  of  the  beetling  crags  with  icy 
layers,  covering  them  all  over  with  plates  like  silver,  and  hang 
ing  them  with  stalactites.  Right  in  front,  and  separated  only 
by  the  narrow  pass  from  the  ledge  on  which  they  stood,  still 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  225 

higher  than  which  it  rose,  towered  a  huge  rock,  perpendicularly, 
to  a  height  of  ninety  or  one  hundred  feet  above  the  cataract. 
Its  foam-beaten  base,  just  above  the  water,  was  encased  in  icy 
incrustations,  higher  up,  gray  moss  overspread  its  flat  side, 
and  tufts  of  cedar  struggled  through  the  fissures,  whilst  its  top 
was  canopied  with  hemlocks  and  savins,  and  white  oaks.  Look 
ing  towards  the  left,  the  eye  swept  over  the  green  hill-side, 
along  which  they  had  walked,  and,  glancing  over  the  islands  in 
the  Yaupaae,  followed  the  winding  coarse  of  the  river,  catching 
here  and  there  on  ground,  that  sloped  to  the  stream,  the  sight 
of  white  buildings,  with  green  blinds,  till  the  surrounding  hills 
shut  in  the  view. 

They  both  stood  silent,  as  they  looked,  she,  unwilling,  by 
an  exclamation,  to  break  the  charm  ;  and  he,  with  his  mind  full 
of  the  lovely  creature  before  him.  Surely,  never  so  angelic  a 
being  gazed  upon  that  scene !  As,  with  kindling  countenance 
and  suspended  breath,  her  dark  eyes  flashing  with  enthusiasm, 
her  soul  drank  in  the  sublimity  and  sparkling  radiance  that  enve 
loped  her,  she  seemed  no  being  of  mortal  mould,  but  some  celes 
tial  visitant.  The  rapt  expression  of  her  face  gradually  settled 
into  awe,  and  she  softly  murmured  these  lines,  of  the  Russian 
poet,  Derzhavin — 

"  God  !  thus  to  Thee  my  lowly  thoughts  can  soar, 
Thus  seek  thy  presence,  Being  wise  and  good, 
'Midst  Thy  vast  works,  admire,  obey,  adore ; 
And  when  the  tongue  is  eloquent  no  more, 
The  soul  shall  speak  iu  tears  of  gratitude." 

The  tears  were  indeed  standing  in  her  eyes,  as  she  turned  and 
placed  her  hand  in  that  of  Bernard. 

"  You  must  think  it  strange,"  she  said,  "  that  I,  to  whom  all 
this  is  no  novelty  should  be  thus  affected.  It  is  a  weakness 
from  which  I  shall  never  recover.'7 

"  Not  weakness,  dear  Faith,"  said  Bernard,  "  but  the  impres- 

10* 


226  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

sibility  of  a  poetical  temperament.  Only  an  insensible  heart 
could  be  unmoved." 

"  If  these  rocks  could  speak,  what  legends  they  might  tell  of 
vanished  races,"  said  Faith.  "  There  is  something  inexpressibly 
sad  in  the  fate  of  those  who  once  were  the  masters  of  these 
woods  and  fields,  and  streams. 

"  They  but  submit  to  the  common  fate,  which  compels  the 
inferior  to  make  way  for  the  superior  race,  as  my  father  says." 

"  How  beautiful,"  she  continued,  "  must  this  goodly  land  have 
seemed  to  the  Indian  hunter,  when,  after  the  day's  chase,  he 
dropped  the  deer  upon  the  ground,  and,  from  this  high  point, 
looked  over  the  green  forests  and  shining  stream.  I  should  not 
wonder,  if  now,  in  the  voice  of  the  cataract,  he  fancies  he  hears 
the  groans  of  his  ancestors,  and  the  screams  of  demons." 

"  There  are  traditions  connected  with  this  place,"  said  Ber 
nard,  "  but  they  are  fast  fading  away,  and  promise  soon  to  be 
forgotten." 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  any  ?" 

"  A  friend  of  mine  has  endeavored  to  rescue  one  from  obli 
vion,  but  I  doubt  if  it  would  interest  you." 

"  I  am  interested  in  everything  that  relates  to  this  people. 
Tell  me  the  story  now.  What  more  fitting  place  for  romance  !" 

"A  fitting  place  certainly,  but  no  fitting  time.  Romance 
would  hardly  mitigate  the  keenness  of  the  air,  or  diminish  the 
probability  of  taking  cold,  were  you  to  stand  here  listening  to 
Indian  legends.  Besides,  the  tale  is  in  manuscript,  and  I  should 
not  be  able,  relying  on  memory,  to  do  it  justice." 

"You  shall  read  it  to  me  this  evening,  where  you  cannot 
make  such  excuses,"  she  replied,  taking  again  his  arm,  and 
resuming  their  walk,  "by  the  light  of  candles,  and  near  the 
parlor  fire,  where  we  may  hear,  and  not  feel  the  wind." 

"  But  where  would  be  the  accompaniments  of  the  tale  ?  The 
framing  I  fear  would  spoil  the  picture." 


THE   LOST     HUNTER.  227 

"  You  will  have  the  benefit  of  contrast,  which  every  great 
painter  desires." 

"  I  am  only  too  happy  to  please  you,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh. 

"  My  almost  brother,  William,  I  knew  you  would  not  refuse 
me  the  favor." 

Conversing  in  this  manner,  they  had  reached  a  turn  in  the 
road,  which  led  back  to  the  village  by  a  route  different  from 
that  they  had  come,  when  they  saw  Esther  approaching,  with 
her  son.  The  boy  walked  in  advance  of  his  mother,  who 
seemed  to  tread  in  his  steps,  while  that  unfailing  companion  of 
the  semi-civilized  red  man,  a  dog,  lounged  by  his  side. 

Quadaquina  was  a  handsome  child,  of  thirteen  or  fourteen 
years  of  age,  with  a  perfectly  oval  face,  and  eyes  deep  set  and 
keen,  that  glittered  like  a  snake's,  resembling  his  mother,  from 
whom  he  inherited  his  beauty.  His  dress  differed  not  from  that 
of  white  boys,  except  that  there  was  thrown  round  his 
shoulders  a  piece  of  coarse  blue  broadcloath,  disposed  like  a 
shawl.  Esther  had  on  her  head  a  dark  colored  felt  hat,  such  as 
is  worn  by  laborers,  from  beneath  which  long  black  hair  fell 
down  upon  her  shoulders.  A  shawl,  like  the  boy's,  was  thrown 
over  her,  a  skirt,  of  the  same  material,  extended  half  way 
down  between  the  knee  and  ankle,  and  crimson  leggins  com 
pleted  the  dress. 

As  they  came  up,  Faith  and  Bernard  stopped  to  speak  to 
them,  and  inquire  after  Holden.  She  had  been  apprised  of  his 
escape,  and  of  the  visit  of  Pownal  and  Anne,  but  had  refrained 
from  going  to  his  retreat  in  consequence  of  its  being  thought 
advisable  to  attract  as  little  attention  to  it  as  possible.  To  her 
inquiries  Esther  returned  the  most  satisfactory  answers.  Holden 
appeared  quite  contented,  and  was  engaged  in  preaching  to  the 
Indians,  and  teaching  them  the  principles  of  the  Christian  faith. 

"  Do  the  Indians  listen  to  what  he  says  ?"  inquired  Ber 
nard. 


228  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"They  listen  ;  Indian  always  listen,"  said  Esther,  "and  the 
wind  blow  the  words  through  the  ears." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  the  young  man,  laughing.  "Holden 
may  now  truly  call  himself  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilder 
ness,  and  a  wilderness  it  is  likely  to  remain." 

There  was  something  both  in  the  manner  and  language  that 
jarred  the  feelings  of  Faith,  and  she  said  : 

"  I  will  never  give  up  the  hope  that  these  poor  people  may  be 
Christianized.  Do  you  not  think,  Esther,  that  there  has  been 
an  improvement  in  the  habits  of  the  tribe  within  a  few  .years  ?" 

Esther  hung  down  her  head,  and  only  answered,  "  Indian  will 
be  Indian." 

"I  will  not  despair,"  said  Faith.  "Be  sure,  Esther,  you 
come  to  the  house  before  you  return.  I  have  something  for 
you,  and  a  message  for  Father  Holden. 

"  I  can  conceive  of  no  character,"  said  Faith,  after  they  had 
parted  from  Esther,  "more  noble  than  that  of  the  Christian 
missionary.  He  is  the  true  redresser  of  wrongs,  the  only  real 
knight  that  ever  lived.  You  smile,"  she  said,  looking  at  Ber 
nard.  "  Do  you  not  think  so  ?" 

"  I  think  with  you,"  he  replied.  "  There  can  be  no  nobler 
man  than  he  who  submits  to  privation,  and  exposes  his  life  to 
danger  through  love  to  his  fellow  man.  It  is  God-like.  But  I 
smiled  at  the  association  of  ideas,  and  not  at  the  sentiment. 
Think  of  Holden  as  a  knight." 

"  To  rne  there  is  nothing  ludicrous  in  the  thought.  When  I 
look  at  him,  I  see  not  the  coarse  unusual  dress,  but  the  heroic 
soul,  that  would  have  battled  valiantly  by  the  side  of  Godfrey 
for  the  holy  sepulchre." 

"I  am  afraid  he  will  meet  with  only  disappointment  in  his 
efforts  to  reform  the  Indians." 

"  We  cannot  know  the  result  of  any  labor.  We  will  do  our 
duty,  and  leave  the  rest  to  God." 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  229 

"They  have  not  the  degree  of  cultivation  necessary  to  the 
reception  of  a  religion  so  refined  and  spiritual  as  the  Christian. 
They  must  first  be  educated  up  to  it." 

"  But  you  would  not,  meanwhile,  neglect  the  very  thing  for 
which  they  are  educated.  Religious  instruction  must  be  a  part 
of  the  education,  and  it  brings  refinement  with  it." 

"  Certainly,  if  it  can  be  received  ;  but  therein  consists  the 
difficulty.  I  am  afraid  it  is  as  reasonable  to  expect  a  savage  to 
apprehend  the  exalted  truths  of  Christianity,  as  one  unaquainted 
with  geometry,  the  forty-ninth  proposition  of  the  first  book  of 
Euclid." 

"  The  comparison  is  not  just.  Science  demands  pure  intel 
lect  ;  but  religion,  both  intellect  and  feeling,  perhaps  most  of 
the  latter.  The  mind  is  susceptible  of  high  cultivation,  the 
heart  feels  instinctively,  and  that  of  a  peasant  may  throb  with 
purer  feeling  than  a  philosopher's  and  for  that  reason  be  more 
ready  to  receive  religious  truth.  And  who  may  limit  the  grace 
of  God  ?" 

"You  have  thought  deeper  on  this  subject  than  I,  Faith. 
But  how  hard  must  it  be  for  the  rays  of  divine  truth  to  pierce 
through  the  blackness  of  that  degradation  which  civilization  has 
entailed  on  them  !  The  conversion  of  the  North  American 
Indian  was  easier  at  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims  than  now." 

"  The  greater  our  duty,"  exclaimed  Faith,  clasping  her  hands*, 
"to  atone  for  the  wrongs  we  have  inflicted.  But,  William, 
some  good  has  been  done.  Look  at  my  dear,  good  Esther." 

"  Esther  deserves  your  praise,  I  am  sure,  because  you  say  it. 
But  it  is  you  that  have  made  her  good.  She  could  not  be  with 
you,  without  being  benefited." 

"You  are  very  kind,  but  no  merit  attaches  to  me.  They 
were  the  precepts  of  Christianity  that  softened  her  heart,  though 
she  was  always  gentle." 

"  It  was  the  sweetness  of  religion  she  heard  in  your  voice,  its 


230  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

kindness  she  read  in  your  eyes,  and  its  loveliness  illustrated  in 
your  life,  that  attracted  and  improved  Esther." 

"  Were  I  to  admit  what  you  say,  the  credit  would,  after  all, 
belong  to  religion." 

The  sun  had  nearly  reached  his  meridian,  as  the  young  couple 
approached  the  house  of  Mr.  Armstrong.  What  a  change  had 
been  produced  in  a  few  hours  !  The  warm  sunshine,  while  it 
gloried  the  landscape  had  robbed  it  of  its  sparkling  beauty. 
The  trees  no  longer  wore  their  silver  armor  ;  the  branches, 
relieved  of  the  unusual  weight,  had  lost  the  graceful  curves  and 
resumed  their  original  positions  ;  white  blossoms  no  longer 
bedecked  the  evergreens  ;  and  all  around,  large  drops  were 
falling,  as  if  lamenting  the  passing  away  of  the  short-lived 
magnificence. 

On  parting  from  Bernard,  at  her  father's  door,  Faith  reminded 
Mm  of  his  promise,  and  invited  him  and  Anne  to  tea  with  her 
in  the  evening.  Bernard  accepted  the  invitation  for  himself, 
and  conditionally  for  his  sister. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  231 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

"  0  nymph,  with  loosely  flowing  hair, 
With  buskined  leg,  and  bosom  bare, 
Thy  waist  with  myrtle  girdle  bound, 
Thy  brow  with  Indian  feathers  crowned, 
Waving  in  thy  snowy  hand 
An  all-commanding  magic  wand 
Of  power,  to  bid  fresh  gardens  blow, 
Mid  cheerless  Lapland's  barren  snow  !" 


JOSEPH  WARTON. 


BERNARD  and  his  sister,  on  their  arrival,  found  only  Mr. 
Armstrong  and  his  daughter,  but  were  joined,  in  the  course  of 
the  evening,  by  Pownal,  at  whose  arrival  all  expressed  pleasure. 
The  whole  company  united  with  Miss  Armstrong  in  requesting 
Bernard  to  read  the  legend,  who,  at  last,  produced  the  manu 
script  from  his  pocket. 

"I  must  entreat  your  indulgence,"  he  said,  "for  the  defects 
of  which  the  piece  is  full.  The  author  is  an  inexperienced 
writer,  and  unable,  like  an  accomplished  hand,  to  atone  by  ele 
gance  of  style  for  improbability  or  poverty  of  incident.  You 
will  expect  no  more  than  that  he  should  observe  the  proprieties 
of  his  subject,  nor  require  him  to  introduce  into  a  tale  of  the 
children  of  Nature  the  refinement  of  language  or  delicacy  of 
sentiment,  to  be  met  with  in  the  modern  romance.  The  stories 
of  an  uncivilized  people  must  be  rude,  even  approaching  in  sim 
plicity  tales  designed  for  children." 

"The  writer  could  not  have  an  audience  more  ready  to  be 
pleased,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong  ;  "  and  are  we  not  all  children  of 
various  growths  ?" 


232  THE      LOST   HUNTER. 

"  I  do  not  believe  any  excuses  are  necessary,"  said  Faith, 
"  and  am  expecting  a  great  deal  of  pleasure.7' 

"The  more  extravagant,  the  better,"  cried  Anne.  "What 
can  equal  the  Arabian  Nights  Entertainment  ?" 

"  We  are  all  attention,"  said  Pownal ;  "  so  whistle  your  appre 
hensions,  Bernard,  to  the  wind.'7 

Thus  encouraged,  the  young  man  opened  his  manuscript,  and 
commenced  reading 

"THE  LEGEND  OF  MAGISAMIKWA  MD  LEELIMU. 

"  Where  the  clear  Sakimau  mingles  its  waters  with  the  great 
salt  lake,  which  would  be  too  salt,  but  for  the  innumerable 
rivers  that  pour  themselves  into  its  bosom,  the  mighty  Aishkwa- 
gon-ai-bee,  whose  name,  rendered  into  the  language  of  the  pale 
faces,  is  the  '  Feather  of  Honor,7  had  erected  his  lodge.  He 
was  the  war-chief  of  a  tribe  whose  name  is  lost  in  the  mists  of 
antiquity.  He  boasted  his  descent  from  the  great  Ojeeg,  of 
whom  it  is  related  that  he  opened  a  hole  in  the  blue  sky  and  let 
out  the  soft,  warm  air  of  Paradise,  so  that  it  poured  down  upon 
the  earth,  and  bestowed  summer  upon  a  region  before  con 
demned  to  perpetual  cold.  He  also  liberated  the  singing-birds 
from  the  mocucks,  or  basket-cages,  where  they  were  confined, 
which,  descending  through  the  aperture,  have  since  enlivened  the 
woods  and  fields  with  their  melodies.  He  was  unable  to  return 
to  this  world,  and  may  still  be  seen  in  the  heavens,  being 
changed  into  the  stars  called  Ojeeg  Annung,  known  to  the  wise 
men  among  the  pale  faces  as  the  Constellation  of  the  Plough. 

"  Nor  was  Aishkwagon-ai-bee  unworthy  of  his  noble  descent. 
The  grandeur  of  his  thoughts  and  the  boldness  of  his  achieve 
ments  proved  the  purity  of  his  blood.  A  skillful  hunter,  a  suc 
cessful  warrior,  equally  renowned  for  wisdom  in  council  and 
bravery  in  action,  he  enjoyed  the  highest  consideration,  not  only 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  233 

in  his  own  tribe,  but  as  far  as  the  great  lakes  to  the  North,  and 
the  river  Delaware  to  the  South.  When  he  pointed  to  the 
beautiful  scalps  that  adorned  the  sides  of  his  wigwam,  he  could 
with  truth  say,  there  was  not  one  of  them  but  had  graced  the 
head  of  a  warrior. 

"  The  Sachem  had  several  children,  sons  and  daughters,  and 
among  the  latter,  the  lovely  Leelinau  was  the  darling  of  his 
heart.  The  maiden  had  attained  the  age  of  eighteen,  and  was 
the  admiration  of  the  youth  for  many  days'  journey  round. 
Her  cheeks  were  the  color  of  the  wild  honey-suckle,  her  lips  like 
strawberries,  and  the  juice  of  the  milk-weed  was  not  whiter  than 
her  teeth.  Her  form  was  lith  as  the  willow,  her  eyes  sparkled 
like  the  morning  star,  her  step  was  that  of  a  bounding  fawn,  and 
her  fingers  were  skilful  in  weaving  the  quills  of  the  porcupine. 
What  wonder  if  hearts  both  young  and  old  beat  quicker  at  her 
approach  ? 

"  Many,  it  may  well  be  supposed,  were  the  offers  of  marriage 
made  to  the  beautiful  Leelinau.  Innumerable  were  the  legs  of 
venison,  and  choice  pieces  of  bear's  meat,  which  the  mothers  of 
the  young  hunters  presented  for  acceptance  at  her  lodge,  being 
careful  to  mention  whose  skill  in  the  chase  procured  them,  but  in 
vain  did  they  look  for  the  bowl  of  succatash  or  embroidered 
moccasins — the  products  of  woman's  labor — in  token  that  their 
gifts  were  pleasing  to  the  coy  beauty.  In  vain,  when  the  shades 
of  evening  fell,  the  softly  breathed  flute  lamented  in  melancholy 
tones  her  cruelty.  In  vain,  with  tasteful  hand,  the  sighing  lover 
painted  his  face  and  person  to  heighten  his  attractions  and  draw 
attention.  The  insensible  Leeliuau  relished  not  the  venison  or 
bear's  meat,  nor  would  she  listen  to  the  flute,  or  look  often  at 
the  painted  suitors. 

Among  her  admirers  none  was  more  deeply  smitten  by  the 
power  of  her  charms  nor  cherished  a  truer  love  than  Magis- 


234  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

aunikwa  or  Wampum-hair,  so  called  from  the  gentleness  of  his 
disposition  and  love  of  peace.  He  was  only  a  few  years  the 
senior  of  the  maiden,  and  of  an  obscure  family  compared  with 
that  of  the  famous  Aishkwagon-ai-bee.  But  love  levels  all  dis 
tinctions,  and,  impelled  by  an  influence  he  could  not  withstand, 
he  dared  to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  Leelinau.  Besides,  there  was 
one  superiority  he  enjoyed  which  made  the  claim  less  presump 
tuous.  Young  as  he  was  no  hunter  of  the  tribe  could  be  com 
pared  with  him  in  skill  or  daring.  Other  lodges  might  be 
destitute,  but  there  was  always  abundance  of  meat  in  that  of 
Magisaunikwa  and  those  of  his  friends.  Happy,  thought  most 
of  the  girls,  would  she  be  who  should  lie  in  the  bosom  of  the 
young  hunter,  and  cook  his  food. 

But  notwithstanding  his  devotion,  Leelinau  would  not  accept  his 
gifts.  Still  he  fancied  he  had  made  some  impression.  She 
would  listen  to  his  conversation  by  the  light  of  the  evening  star, 
though  whenever  he  hinted  at  his  passion,  she  would  hastily 
retire  ;  and  twice  or  thrice  he  had  caught  her  eyes  fixed  on  him, 
when  she  thought  herself  unobserved.  Hope  lives  on  scanty 
aliment,  and  the  young  man  did  not  despair. 

Aishkwagon-ai-bee  had  noticed  the  liking  of  Magisaunikwa 
for  his  daughter,  and  was  not  displeased.  The  noble  youth  had 
found  favor  in  his  eyes,  and  he  did  not  disdain  his  alliance. 
There  was  only  a  single  cause  of  hesitation  in  his  mind.  Wam 
pum-hair  had  never  been  on  a  war-path,  and  had  always  shown 
a  disinclination  to  shed  human  blood.  Yet  his  courage  was 
undoubted.  None  encountered  with  more  audacity  the  panther 
and  the  bear,  and  several  were  the  lives  he  had  saved  at  the 
hazard  of  his  own.  A  successful  war  expedition  only  was  neces 
sary  to  complete  his  claims  to  the  highest  honors.  Save  the 
bloody  scalp,  no  ornament  was  lacking  in  his  wigwam. 

"  Magisauiiikwa,"  said  the  Sachem,  "  the  fire  of  your  eyes 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  235 

melts  not  the  snow  around  the  heart  of  Leelinau,  and  it  is  because 
she  looks  upon  your  hands  and  sees  they  were  never  painted 
with  the  blood  of  an  enemy." 

"  Can  Leelinau  be  happier."  asked  the  young  hunter,  "  because 
another  is  made  miserable  ?  Were  I  to  kill  a  warrior  for  her 
sake,  would  not  her  dreams  be  disturbed  by  the  groans  of  his 
mother  P 

The  eyes  of  the  Sachem  flashed  when  he  heard  such  lan 
guage. 

"  Go,"  he  said,  "  if  thou  art  a  dove,  seek  not  to  mate  with 
the  hawk." 

But  the  resolution  of  Wampum-hair  was  not  to  be  shaken  by 
threats  or  reproaches,  nor  weakened  by  the  seductions  of  love. 
In  the  long  and  final  fast  which  revealed  to  him  his  guardian 
spirit,  twelve  days  with  unshaken  fortitude,  to  the  wonder  of  the 
tribe,  had  he  remained  without  food  before  the  vision  came.  He 
then  beheld  a  child  white  as  the  water-lily  leading  a  little  animal 
unknown  to  the  country.  It  was  the  size  of  the  beaver,  and 
covered  all  over  with  long  white  hair  that  curled  closely  to  its 
body.  Its  eyes  were  mild  and  sweet,  and  the  expression  of  its 
face  gentler  than  anything  ever  seen  on  earth.  The  child  laid 
his  hand  on  the  heart  of  the.  fainting  youth,  and  an  influence 
soft  as  the  breath  of  the  south  wind  streamed  through  his  frame, 
and  he  was  strengthened,  and  stood  upon  his  feet  and  partook 
of  food.  Since  then  the  war-song  had  been  hateful  to  the  ears 
of  Wampum-hair,  and  he  loathed  the  vauntings  of  the  braves. 
He  preached  peace  to  his  people,  and  endeavored  to  convince 
them  of  the  folly  of  killing  their  fellow  men.  But  prejudices 
old  as  the  mountains  were  not  to  be  removed  by  the  exhorta 
tions  or  arguments  of  an  obscure  youth  ;  and  although  the  old 
men  listened,  and  some  few  approved,  yet  the  young  men  scoffed 
and  burned  to  distinguish  themselves  after  the  manner  of  their 
ancestors.  It  was  fortunate  for  the  young  man  that  opportuni- 


236  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

ties  had  occurred  to  test  his  courage,  and  that  he  had  never 
hesitated  when  others  flinched.  His  tribe  therefore  ascribed 
his  conduct  to  no  want  of  bravery,  but  to  a  delusion  sent  by  his 
guardian  genius.  Hence,  though  his  influence  was  impaired,  it 
was  not  entirely  destroyed. 

Thus  things  continued  for  some  time,  till  one  day  the  Sachem 
again  addressed  Wampum-hair. 

"  Does  the  heart  of  Magisaunikwa  still  beat  softly,  like  the 
heart  of  a  deer  !" 

"It  beats  like  a  man's,"  said  the  young  hunter,  "and  not  like 
that  of  a  vile  wild  beast.  The  Indian  should  imitate  the  Good 
Spirit  in  his  actions,  and  not  destroy  his  brothers  and  sis 
ters." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Sachem,  "his  heart  is  a  man's,  though  it  is 
soft.  Does  Wampum-hair  still  love  Leelinau  ?" 

"The  breath  of  Thequan  is  not  more  welcome  to  the  wood- 
flower  which  it  wakes  up  to  life,  or  the  song  of  the  bird  dearer 
to  its  mate,  than  the  sight  of  Leelinau  to  Magisaunikwa." 

"  What  would  Wampum-hair  do  to  obtain  her  love  ?" 

"  He  would  climb  the  sky,  or  dive  to  the  bottom  of  the  salt 
lake  ;  all  that  the  Great  Spirit  could  ask  would  he  do." 

"  A  chief  cannot  compel  the  affection  of  his  daughter,  but  he 
can  give  his  own  consent,  and  the  young  bird  listens  to  the  voice 
of  its  parent.'7 

"  Let  the  great  chief  say  what  he  would  have,  and  the  arm 
of  Wampum-hair  shall  be  strong  to  do  his  will.  For  the  sake 
of  Leelinau  he  would  please  her  father." 

The  Sachem  paused,  and  gazed  with  pleasure  on  the  kindling 
features  of  the  young  man.  He  was  a  wise  chief,  and  desired 
the  good  of  his  people.  In  those  days  the  panthers,  driven  from 
the  north  by  a  severe  winter,  infested  the  country  in  great  num 
bers,  and  threatened  to  destroy  the  game,  on  which  the  Indians 
depended  for  subsistence.  Although  many  had  been  killed,  there 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  23t 

still  remained  enough  to  ravage  the  laud  and  do  serious  injury  ; 
and  they  had  become  so  cunning  by  being  frequently  hunted 
that  they  almost  uniformly  succeeded  in  eluding  the  chase.  It 
would  be  a  public  service,  though  a  difficult  undertaking,  to 
exterminate  the  ravenous  animals.  He  therefore  said  : — 

"  Let  Magisaunikwa  bring  me  a  conaus  made  of  the  scalps 
of  panthers,  and  another  for  Leelinau,  and  he  shall  have  the 
strong  word  of  a  chief  to  whisper  commendations  of  the  hunter 
in  the  ears  of  the  maiden." 

"  It  is  well.  The  words  of  the  great  chief  are  pleasant,  and 
my  ears  drink  them  up  as  the  thirsty  sand  the  drops  of  rain. 
The  feet  of  Wampum-hair  are  swift ;  his  arrows  are  true,  and 
they  shall  pierce  the  screaming  panther." 

That  same  day,  so  eager  was  the  young  hunter  to  commence 
the  chase,  he  started  for  those  parts  of  the  forest  where  the 
game  was  most  likely  to  be  found.  Many  were  the  beasts 
destroyed  by  him,  so  that  a  little  child  might  wander  in  security 
ten  days'  journey,  in  every  direction,  from  the  lodge  of  the 
Sachem,  and  narrow  were  the  escapes  from  death  of  the  intrepid 
hunter,  and  yet  scarcely  scalps  enough  were  obtained  to  make  a 
conaus  or  wrapper  for  the  sloping  shoulders  of  Leelinau.  In 
vain,  the  enamored  youth  extended  his  hunt  still  further,  even 
twenty  days'  journey  from  his  starting  point.  Only  at  long 
intervals  was  a  beast  discovered,  but,  finally,  not  one  was  to  be 
found,  and  the  youth  awoke  to  the  conviction  that  he  had  been 
made  a  dupe  to  the  cunning  of  the  Sachem. 

After  a  fruitless  chase  he  was  musing  one  day  sorrowfully 
over  his  disappointed  hopes,  ashamed  to  go  back  to  his  village, 
to  which  he  had  never  returned  without  success  before,  when, 
suddenly,  a  man  of  majestic  presence  stood  before  him.  His 
nose  was  like  the  beak  of  an  eagle,  and  his  eyes  resembled  fires 
in  a  dark  night.  Strange  feathers,  of  brilliant  colors,  were 
woven  into  his  scalp-lock  ;  a  magnificent  robe  of  skins  depended 


238  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

from  his  shoulders  ;  and  in  his  hand  he  held  a  long  spear,  tipped 
with  a  pointed  stone. 

"  My  brother  is  sad/7  he  said.  "Let  my  brother  give  me  the 
half  of  his  grief  to  bear." 

Thus  exhorted,  Magisaunikwa  disclosed  the  cause  of  his 
dejection  to  his  sympathizing  friend. 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  said  the  stranger.  "  Return,  and  thou  shalt 
find  the  conaus  in  thy  lodge,  and  when  thou  beholdest  them, 
remember  they  are  the  gift  of  Manabozho.  I  am  Manabozho." 

He  spoke,  and  before  the  astonished  hunter  had  time  to 
thank  him,  vanished  from  his  sight.  Then  the  young  man  knew 
that  he  had  conversed  with  the  capricious  Manito,  and  with  full 
faith  and  light  heart,  he  directed  his  steps  homeward. 

He  found  the  two  conaus  in  his  wigwam,  according  to  the 
promise  of  the  Manito.  One  he  presented  to  the  chief,  and  the 
other  he  offered  to  the  maiden,  but  she  refused  to  accept  the 
tribute  of  his  devotion. 

The  astonishment  of  Aishkwagon-ai-bee,  and  of  the  whole 
tribe,  is  not  to  be  conceived,  and  the  fame  of  Wampum-hair 
mounted  to  the  stars.  The  truthful  chief  spoke  earnestly  to  his 
daughter,  of  the  merits  of  her  lover,  and  proposed  him  for  her 
husband,  but  Leelinau  showed  the  strongest  aversion  to  the 
union.  The  haughty  maiden  inherited  the  fierce  temper  of  her 
father,  without  his  wisdom,  and  she  looked  with  contempt  on  all 
not  distinguished  by  high  descent  or  bloody  deeds,  nor  in  her 
soaring  pride  was  there  one  of  the  young  men  of  the  tribe 
worthy  of  her  hand.  Not  that  there  were  not  youthful  war 
riors  who  could  point  to  the  evidences  of  their  prowess,  and 
whose  names  were  familiar  to  the  song,  but  in  every  instance  the 
difficult  beauty  had  found  some  objection,  and  turned  away  her 
head.  The  truth  is,  the  west  wind,  that  entices  the  flowers 
from  the  ground  in  spring,  and  leads  the  bird  to  its  mate,  had 
never  breathed  upon  the  heart  of  Leelinau. 


THE     LOST      HUNTER.  239 

But  the  time  finally  came  when  the  maiden  was  constrained 
to  make  a  choice.  Her  family  had  become  impatient  of  delay, 
and  Leelinau  yielded  to  their  remonstrances.  It  was  only  in 
appearance,  however,  that  she  acquiesced  in  the  wishes  of  her 
relatives.  She  determined  to  propose,  as  the  price  of  her  hand, 
some  enterprise  too  difficult  to  be  accomplished.  She  repre 
sented  to  her  father  that  lightly  won,  was  lightly  prized,  and 
that  the  daughter  of  a  great  chief  like  him,  was  not  to  be 
wooed  like  other  maidens,  and  obtained  from  him,  to  whom  her 
voice  was  sweeter  than  the  notes  of  the  mocking-bird,  his  con 
sent  to  her  scheme. 

The  conditions  on  which  Leelinau  consented  to  follow  a 
husband  to  his  lodge  were  soon  known.  Only  him  would  she 
acknowledge  for  her  lord,  who  should  guide  his  canoe  in  safety 
from  the  head  of  the  Falls  of  the  Yaupaae  to  the  little  islands 
below.  The  old  men  shook  their  heads  when  they  heard  the 
terms,  and  the  squaws  said,  her  heart  must  be  made  of  stone, 
but  the  young  men  felt  warm,  and  thought  of  trying  their 
fortunes. 

The  enterprise  was  more  difficult  than  any  Manabozho  had 
undertaken.  When  the  river  was  low,  it  poured  almost  per 
pendicularly  down,  a  height  of  twenty  feet,  on  rocks,  thrusting 
sharp  points  into  the  air,  then  bounded  in  sinuous  windings 
through  rifts  and  basins,  made  by  the  constant  beating  of  the 
water,  and  the  attrition  of  stones,  whirled  round  in  the  cavi 
ties,  to  dash  over  a  declivity  of  yet  other  rocks,  before  it 
reached  its  calm  welcome  below.  When  swollen  by  rains  the 
rocks  were  all  hidden,  the  perpendicular  fall  disappeared,  it  was 
as  if  the  Great  Salt  Lake  were  pouring  down  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  and  from  top  to  bottom  was  all  one  vast  mass  of 
foam,  lashing  the  huge  rock  at  the  throat,  around  which  the 
torrent  turned  with  a  sudden  bend.  No  canoe  could  live  on 
such  a  cataract.  It  must  be  overturned  and  engulfed  long 


240  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

before  reaching  the  bottom,  or  if  those  perils  were,  by  any 
wonderful  chance,  escaped,  inevitable  destruction  awaited  the  pre 
sumptuous  adventurer,  dashed  against  the  rock  at  the  bottom. 

The  lovers  of  Leelinau  gazed  at  the  Fall,  but  the  more  they 
considered  the  less  inclination  they  felt  to  encounter  the 
danger.  In  a  low  stage  of  the  water  the  canoe  would  be  over 
turned,  and  pierced  by  the  sharp  rocks,  while  mangled  limbs 
certainly,  if  not  death,  must  be  the  doom  of  the  rash  aspirant, 
and  who  would  dare  to  brave  the  terrors  of  the  swollen  river  ? 

The  eyes  of  Leelinau  were  bright,  and  her  smile  sweet,  but 
there  were  other  maidens  with  bright  eyes  and  sweet  smiles,  and 
less  difficult  to  please. 

But  not  thus  felt  Magisaunikwa.  The  absorbing  passion 
swallowed  up  all  considerations  of  prudence,  and  he  resolved  to 
undertake  the  adventure.  If  he  perished,  the  Great  Spirit 
would  be  pleased  with  his  courage,  and  what  was  life  without 
Leelinau  ?  While  thoughts  like  these  passed  through  his  mind, 
he  remembered  Manabozho.  He  had  assisted  him  once,  although 
in  vain,  why  not  a  second  time  ?  He  sought  once  more  the 
recesses  of  the  forest,  where  he  had  met  him,  and  called  upon  his 
name,  but  no  answer  was  returned.  He  kindled  a  fire  and 
threw  upon  it  the  fragrant  tobacco,  and  called  again,  "  Ho  ! 
Manabozho  !"  and  the  majestic  figure  stood  before  him,  but 
there  was  anger  on  his  brow.  To  his  stern  demand  the  hunter 
made  known  what  had  happened,  and  begged  his  assistance. 
But  the  Manito  showed  no  disposition  to  grant  it.  In  fact,  the 
task  was  beyond  his  powers,  but  he  was  unwilling  that  it  should 
be  known. 

"  Fool  I"  he  said,  "  is  a  scornful  squaw  worth  the  hazard  of 
death  and  the  shame  that  attends  defeat  ?  Seek  thy  lodge  and 
blow  away  these  thoughts  as  the  wind  disperses  the  winged 
seeds  of  the  stinging  nettle."  It  was  evident  Manabozho  had 
never  been  in  love,  for  then  he  would  not  have  thrown  away  his 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  241 

advice.     He  stayed  not  for  a  reply,  but  with  a  gesture  of  dis 
dain  disappeared. 

Wampum-hair  sought  his  wigwam,  melancholy  but  not  dis 
couraged.  It  was,  indeed,  impossible  to  follow  the  counsel  of 
the  friendly  Manito.  Sleeping  or  waking  the  image  of  Leelinau 
swam  before  his  eyes,  and  sometimes  smiled  as  if  to  incite  him 
to  the  enterprise. 

He  resolved  to  undertake  a  solemn  fast.  He  therefore  sought 
a  retired  place  and  built  a  pointed  lodge. 

Six  days  and  nights  he  fasted,  lying  on  the  ground,  and  on 
the  seventh  day,  at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  his  guardian  spirit,  the 
child  with  the  white  beaver,  slowly  descended  from  the  sky. 
His  face  was  kind  and  gentle  as  at  the  first,  but  not  as  before 
did  he  lay  his  hand  on  the  heart  of  Wampum-hair.  Now  he 
pressed  his  palm  upon  the  forehead  of  the  hunter,  and  strange 
thoughts  and  determinations,  like  rising  storms,  passed  through 
his  mind:  slowly,  then,  up  through  the  pointed  roof,  which  opened 
for  his  passage,  mounted  the  child  till  he  disappeared  in  the  blue 
field. 

Magisaunikwa  arose  from  the  ground,  and  a  frown  was  upon 
his  brow.  He  ate  and  was  refreshed,  and  returned  to  his 
lodge. 

It  was  the  last  month  of  snows,  and  great  rains  had  fallen, 
and  the  torrents  were  shouting  from  the  mountains,  and  the 
Yaupaae  pouring  out  a  mightier  flood  than  had  ever  been  seen 
rushing  through  between  the  cleft  rocks.  It  was  then  Wam 
pum-hair  announced  his  intention  to  undertake  the  adventure  of 
the  Falls,  and  invited  the  tribe  to  gather  together  to  witness 
its  performance.  It  is  said  that  the  heart  of  Leeliuau,  touched 
by  so  much  constancy,  was  inclined  to  relent  and  excuse  her 
lover  the  terrible  ordeal,  but  this  is  probably  the  dream  of  some 
soft-hcnrted  girl,  and  only  indicates  what  she  would  have  done 
in  'ikj  err cura stances,  * 

11 


242  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

On  the  day  selected,  the  tribe  was  collected  at  the  outpouring 
of  the  waters,  to  witness  the  achievement  of  Magisaunikwa,  and 
lament  his  death.  In  great  numbers  they  lined  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  seeking  those  positions  from  which  the  best  views  could 
be  obtained,  while  his  friends  watched  at  the  foot  of  the 
cataract  in  canoes  to  rescue  the  body  should  it  be  thrown  up  by 
the  raging  water.  Leelinau,  too,  was  there,  unyielding,  yet 
proud  of  a  devotion  unheard  of  in  the  annals  of  her  nation. 
She  looked  haughtily  as  on  a  spectacle  devised  in  her  honor,  of 
which  she  should  be  celebrated  as  the  heroine,  long  after  her 
feet  should  have  travelled  the  path  that  leads  to  the  Spirit- 
land.  No  regret  for  the  destruction  to  which  her  lover  was 
doomed  appeared  to  touch  her  heart,  nor  did  pity  moisten  her 
eyes  as  she  looked  upon  the  preparations  for  the  sacrifice. 

At  length  Magisaunikwa  appeared,  and  never  before  had  he 
attracted  such  admiration.  He  moved  like  one  returning  from 
victory.  No  war  paint,  such  as  warriors  are  accustomed  to  use 
when  upon  the  war-path  in  order  to  strike  terror  into  the  foe, 
or  when  commencing  an  enterprise  of  great  peril,  stained  his 
person.  His  dress  was  the  conaus  of  panther  scalps,  and  he 
walked  amid  a  company  of  young  men  of  his  own  age,  above  the 
tallest  of  whom  he  rose  by  a  head. 

Before  commencing  the  adventure,  he  performed  the  custom 
ary  ceremony  to  propitiate  the  Great  Spirit,  pointing  to  the 
heavens,  the  earth,  and  the  four  winds,  and  invoking  with  a 
loud  voice  the  Master  of  Life  to  smile  upon  the  undertaking. 
This  being  done,  he  cast  his  eyes  over  the  assembled  crowd,  till 
they  fell  upon  Leelinau.  Long  he  gazed,  as  if  he  desired  to 
carry  her  image  with  him  to  the  Spirit-land,  nor  after  that  last 
look  did  he  allow  his  glance  to  rest  upon  another  human  being. 
Then,  at  a  little  distance  above  the  head  of  the  cataract,  he 
entered  the  canoe  and  grasped  the  paddle. 

The  motion  'of  the  frail  bark  was  at  first  gentle,  but  only 


THE.     LOST     HUNTER.  243 

for  a  short  time  :  every  moment  its  speed  became  accelerated, 
until,  even  before  it  reached  the  plunge,  it  seemed  to  fly  like 
the  swallow.  Calmly  guiding  its  fearful  course  sat  the  young 
man,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  narrow  opening  between  the  rocks. 
And  now  the  canoe  is  at  the  brink  of  the  Falls — it  leaps  like  the 
salmon  when  he  journeys  up  the  stream — it  is  gone  ! — the 
raging  waters  have  devoured  it — no,  I  see  it  again — the  arm  of 
Magisaunikwa  is  strong,  and  the  paddle  unbroken.  Help, 
Manito  1  he  is  dashed  against  the  rock  at  the  throat — no,  the 
canoe  is  whirled  round  and  darts  away,  and  T  behold  it  gliding 
with  the  youth  over  the  quiet  water.  The  Great  Spirit  hath 
protected  him. 

A  shout,  rivalling  the  roar  of  the  Falls,  went  up  from  the 
assembled  multitude,  and  they  rose  with  songs  such  as  welcome 
returned  warriors  to  greet  the  successful  hero. 

But  Wampum-hair  received  their  congratulations  and  their 
praises  with  indifference.  With  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  he 
suffered  himself  to  be  borne  in  triumph  to  the  spot,  where,  on  a 
platform  of  rock,  stood  the  beautiful  Leelinan.  What  were  the 
thoughts  that  passed  through  her  mind  ?  Was  she  proud  of 
being  the  object  of  a  love  so  true  and  daring,  or  did  she  lament 
the  necessity  of  accepting  a  lord  ?  Wampum-hair  approached, 
and  before  his  calm,  sorrowing  eyes,  her  own  sunk  to  the 
ground.  Searching  was  his  look,  as  if  to  descry  the  secrets  of 
her  soul,  arid  at  last  he  spoke. 

"  Leelinau,"  he  said,  "the  Great  Spirit  created  thee  loveliest 
among  the  daughters  of  women  ;  wherefore  gave  he  thee  not  a 
heart  ? 

"  Leelinau,  Wampum-hair  will  sigh  no  more  for  thee.  Hence 
forth,  thou  art  to  him  only  a  flower  or  a  painted  bird. 

"  Leelinau,  the  waters  of  the  Yaupaae  have  extinguished  the 
fire  that  burned  here,"  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  heart.  He 
turned  upon  his  heel  and  left  the  assemblage. 


244  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

Astonishment  at  the  address  of  Magisaunikwa  at  first  held 
all  mute,  but  presently  a  cry  for  revenge  arose  among  the  kins 
men  of  the  slighted  maiden.  But  the  commanding  voice  of  the 
wise  Aishkvvagon-ai-bee  stilled  the  tumult. 

"The  blood  of  the  mighty  Ojeeg,"  he  said,  "cannot  mingle 
with  water.  The  Great  Spirit  hath  taken  this  way  to  release 
Leelinau  from  a  promise  which  He  is  displeased  that  she  made." 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  vindictive  feelings  of  the  rela 
tions  of  Leelinau,  their  resentment  was  never  visited  on  the  head 
of  the  young  hunter.  Once,  it  is  said,  two  brothers  of  the 
rejected  maiden  lay  in  ambush  to  take  his  life  ;  but  as  he  passed 
unconsciously  near  them,  and  the  fatal  arrows  were  drawn  to 
the  head  against  his  bosom,  Manabozho  appeared  and  forbade 
the  deed. 

Magisaunikwa  continued  to  cherish  through  a  long  life  his 
love  of  peace.  He  obtained  a  great  influence  over  his  own  and 
the  neighboring  tribes,  and  succeeded  in  spreading  widely  his 
pacific  views.  At  the  time  of  his  death,  which  happened  at  an 
advanced  age,  the  calumet  of  peace  was  everywhere  smoked 
among  the  northern  tribes,  and  their  numbers  had  greatly 
increased.  Wampum-hair  was  universally  honored,  and  regarded 
as  the  cause  of  this  felicity.  But  no  wife  ever  cooked  the  veni 
son  in  his  lodge.  With  the  dream  of  his  youth  vanished  all  pre 
dilection  for  the  softer  sex.  He  had  loved  and  been  disap 
pointed.  Where  he  expected  to  meet  gentleness  he  had  found 
pride.  He  looked  for  the  yielding  willow,  and  behold  the  inflexi 
ble  oak ! 

But  in  Leelinau  also  a  revolution  had  been  effected.  Her 
whole  being  was  transformed.  What  devoted  love  that  antici 
pated  every  wish  was  incapable  of  accomplishing,  indifference 
achieved.  Her  soul  from  that  moment  flew  on  the  wings  of 
desire  after  Magisaunikwa.  At  first  she  thought  his  conduct 
caused  by  some  temporary  pique  or  resentment,  and  trusted  to 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  245 

the  power  of  her  fascinations  to  restore  him  to  her  nets.  As 
time,  however,  wore  on,  her  hopes  became  fainter,  until  the  terri 
ble  conviction  settled  like  a  night  upon  her  soul,  that  she  had 
trifled  with  the  noblest  heart  of  her  nation  and  driven  it  for 
ever  away.  Then  it  was  she  felt  the  desolation  no  language  can 
express.  A  settled  melancholy  took  possession  of  her.  Her 
eyes  lost  their  fire,  her  lip  its  smile,  and  her  voice  the  song. 
She  would  wander  alone,  far  away  into  the  recesses  of  the  forest, 
speaking  to  herself  in  low  tones,  and  weeping  at  the  remem 
brance  of  happy 'days.  Her  health  declined  rapidly  until  she 
became  too  weak  to  leave  without  assistance  the  couch,  where 
day  after  day  reclined  her  fading  form.  One  soft  summer  morn 
ing  she  begged  two  of  her  mates  to  support  her  to  the  rock, 
whence  she  beheld  the  exploit  of  Wampum-hair.  She  sank  down, 
and  removing,  with  her  wasted  hand,  the  long  hair  that  had 
fallen  over  her  eyes,  gazed  sadly  on  the  foaming  river.  With  a 
wistful  look  she  followed  the  course  of  the  cataract  from  top  to 
bottom,  probably  recalling  at  the  moment  her  lover's  danger 
for  her  sake  and  her  own  repented  scorn,  then  heavily  sighed, 
and  leaning  her  head  on  the  bosom  of  one  of  her  companions, 
expired. 


246  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Wide  o'er  the  brim  with  many  a  torrent  swelled, 
And  the  mixed  ruin  of  its  banks  o'erspread, 
At  last  the  roused  up  river  pours  along  : 
Resistless,  roaring,  dreadful,  down  it  comes 
From  the  rude  mountain  and  the  mossy  wild. 

THOMSON'S  SEASONS. 

THE  company  expressed  their  acknowledgments  to  Bernard 
for  the  entertainment  he  had  furnished,  although  they  all  seemed 
to  consider  the  conduct  of  Wampum-hair  inconsistent  with  his 
amiable  character,  and  to  pity  the  fate  of  Leelinau. 

"  The  writer  must  have  had  some  suspicion  of  the  inconsistency 
himself,"  said  Bernard,  "  to  judge  from  his  attempt  to  obviate 
the  difficulty,  by  ascribing  a  magic  change  in  his  hero,  to  the 
application  of  the  child's  hand  to  the  head,  instead  of  as  before, 
to  the  heart.  This  part  of  the  tale  is  slightly  and  unskillfully 
developed." 

"  I  cannot  agree  with  you,"  said  Faith,  "  and  think  you  do 
your  friend  injustice.  The  idea  is,  that  the  guardian  genius 
exercised  a  controlling  influence  over  the  destiny  of  the  young 
man  ;  and  I  see  no  reason  why  if  we  concede  the  power  to  the 
genius  to  soften  his  nature,  we  may  not  grant  also  the  ability  to 
harden  it." 

''Especially/'  observed  Pownal,  "  as  the  object  of  the  pro 
tecting  spirit  would  have  been  frustrated,  had  the  lovers  been 
united." 

All  looked  inquiringly  towards  him  for  an  explanation. 

"  I  mean,"  said  he,  "  that  with  such  a  fierce  little  squaw  for  a 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  247 

wife,  the  gentleman  with  the  unpronounceable  name,  would  not 
have  continued  a  man  of  peace  long.  There  certainly  would 
have  been  war  within  the  wigwam,  however  dense  the  puffs  of 
smoke  from  the  calumet  of  peace  outside." 

All  laughed  at  the  sally,  but  Anne  intimated  that  she  would 
have  preferred  a  different  termination. 

"  At  least,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong,  who  had  listened  in  silence 
to  the  criticisms  of  the  young  people,  "  it  teaches  a  profitable 
lesson  to  you  girls.'7 

"  What  is  that,  Mr.  Armstrong  ?"  inquired  Anne. 

"That  young  ladies  should  know  their  own  minds." 

"  A  most  unreasonable  expectation  !"  exclaimed  Anne.  "We 
should  become  as  stupid — as  stupid  as  reasonable  people." 

"  Besides,"  said  Faith,  coming  to  her  friend's  assistance,  "  the 
story  was  intended  for  the  benefit  of  Indian  girls,  and  not  for 
those  who  read  Shakspeare." 

"  I  suspect/7  said  Bernard,  "  that  the  writer  was  better 
acquainted  with  the  Shakspearean  ladies,  than  with  Indian  girls." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?"  asked  Faith. 

"  Do  you  not  observe,"  answered  Bernard,  "  that  he  confines 
himself  to  generalities  ?  Not  a  word  does  he  venture  to  say 
about  the  toilette  of  the  beauty.  A  description  of  the  dress 
of  the  heroine,  has  always  been  considered  indispensable  in 
every  tale." 

"  Poh,  William  !"  said  Anne,  "  what  a  savage  critic  you 
are.  But,  probably,  there  was  so  little  to  describe,  the 
author  did  not  think  it  worth  his  while." 

"  And,"  said  Pownal,  "  is  anything  admissible  in  a  picture 
which  distracts  the  attention  and  withdraws  it  from  the  principal 
figure?  Good  taste  excludes  ear-rings  and  gold  chains  from 
portraits." 

"  Well,"  said  Bernard,  "  I  dare  say  you  are  right.  It  may 
be,  too,  that  the  dress  was  indescribable." 


248  THE      LOST      II  U  \  T  E  R  . 

"  Who  is  this  Manabozho,  who  comes  in  so  opportunely,  yet, 
without  effecting  much  after  all  ?''  inquired  Anne.  "I  am 
charmed  with  his  appearance  ;  particularly,  his  big  eyes." 

"  He  is  a  sort  of  Indian  Hercules,"  replied  Bernard,  "  who 
plays  a  conspicuous  part  in  many  legends.  He  is  a  compound 
of  wisdom  and  folly,  of  benevolence  and  mischief,  of  strength 
and  weakness,  partly  Manitou  and  partly  man,  and  is  privi 
leged  to  do  anything,  however  absurd  and  impossible,  at  one 
moment,  while,  at  the  next,  he  may  be  shorn  of  his  power,  so  as 
to  be  incapable  of  taking  care  of  himself." 

"  A  very  convenient  person  indeed,"  said  Anne. 

"  Loosing  the  knot  of  a  difficulty  by  the  intervention  of  such 
a  Power,  shows  but  little  ingenuity,  I  confess,"  said  Bernard. 

"  There  is  classical  authority  for  it,  though,"  said  Mr.  Arm 
strong.  "  Homer,  himself,  condescends  to  introduce  a  God, 
when  he  cannot  extricate  himself  from  embarrassment  without 
his  help." 

"  Aye,"  said  Bernard,  "  but  the  rule  of  Horace  must  not  be 
forgotten,  nee  Deus,"  &c. 

"  True,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong  ;  "  but  how  would  you  have 
accomplished  the  feat,  like  one  of  the  labors  of  Hercules,  with 
out  some  such  means  ?" 

"  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  able  to  do  it,"  answered  Bernard, 
modestly  ;  "  but,  doubtless,  one  possessed  of  more  imagination 
could  have  accomplished  it." 

"  You  are  but  a  cold  advocate  for  your  friend,"  said  Faith. 
"  You  do  not  allow  him  half  the  merit  he  deserves  " 

"  He  would  not  complain  were  he  to  hear  me,"  said  Bernard. 
"  No  one  can  be  more  sensible  than  himself,  of  the  defects  of  his 
work." 

"  And  I  say,"  said  Anne,  "  that  I  like  his  story  exceedingly  ; 
only,  he  knows  nothing  about  our  sex.  It  may  be  all  very  well 
for  a  man  to  praise  that  hard-hearted  Wampum-head,  and  make 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  249 

poor  Leelinau  pine  away  for  his  precious  sake,  but,  I  do  not 
believe  she  was  so  silly  as  to  care  much  about  him." 

"  If  the  truth  were  known,"  said  Pownal,  "  I  have  no  doubt 
that  the  girl  rejected  him,  because  she  liked  some  one  else 
better." 

"  And  her  ungallant  beau,"  said  Anne,  "  made  up  the  story, 
to  cover  his  confusion." 

"  I  am  satisfied  with  it  as  it  is,"  said  Faith.  "  We  pity  and 
love  Leelinau,  now  ;  her  haughtiness  and  pride  are  forgotten  in 
her  misfortunes,  and  we  remember  her  as  one  faithful  unto 
death." 

"  Your  tale  reminds  me,"  said  Pownal,  addressing  Bernard, 
"  that  there  is  a  tremendous  freshet  in  the  Wootiippocut,  and 
that  the  waters  are  increasing.  Suppose,  if  the  ladies  consent, 
we  make  up  a  party,  to  view  it,  to-morrow  ?" 

The  proposition  was  received  with  approbation  by  all,  and  it 
was  agreed,  that  they  would  meet  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Arm 
strong,  as  the  starting-point,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day. 
The  evening  being  now  considerably  advanced,  Faith's  friends 
took  their  leave. 

The  nine  o'clock  bell  was  ringing,  as  the  young  people  passed 
through  the  quiet  streets.  The  custom  of  ringing  a  bell,  at  that 
hoar,  is  one  which  has  fallen  into  desuetude,  although,  once, 
almost  universal  in  New  England,  and  may  be  said  to  bear 
some  relation  to  the  vesper-bell,  in  Roman  Catholic  countries. 
Its  avowed  object,  indeed,  was  not,  as  in  the  case  of  the  latter, 
to  call  the  people  to  prayers,  but,  its  effect,  perhaps,  was  the 
same  ;  for,  it  marked  the  hour  at  which  the  population  of  the 
village  were  in  the  habit  of  retiring  to  rest  ;  and,  in  those  days 
of  simple  faith,  many  were  the  families  whose  members  united 
together,  before  seeking  their  pillows,  to  return  thanks  for  the 
blessings  of  the  day,  and  ask  for  protection  during  the  defence 
less  hours  of  the  night.  Luxury  and  dissipation  have  since  crept 

11* 


250  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

in,  and  parties  assemble,  now,  at  an  hour  when  they  formerly 
broke  up.  We  call  ourselves  more  refined,  but,  it  may  admit 
of  a  doubt,  whether  all  our  show  and  parade  are  not  purchased 
at  too  dear  a  rate,  at  the  price  of  substantial  comfort  and 
happiness. 

The  shore  was  lined  with  spectators,  when  the  little  party 
approached  the  scene  of  the  freshet.  We  do  not  know  that  we 
have  succeeded  in  conveying  a  clear  idea  of  the  river  we  have 
attempted  to  describe.  It  may  be  recollected,  that  it  was 
spoken  of  as  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  Severn,  coming  in 
from  the  East,  and  sweeping  round  that  side  of  the  town.  The 
banks,  on  the  side  opposite,  were  high  and  precipitous  ;  but,  on 
the  hither  side — with  the  exception  of  the  narrow  passage 
through  which  the  river  poured  itself  into  the  Severn,  and  for  a  . 
short  distance  above — the  ground  rose  gently  from  the  stream 
before  it  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill,  interposing  a  piece  of  com 
paratively  level  land.  The  road  that  ran  on  this  flat  spot,  and 
connected  the  eastern  portion  (which,  from  the  extempore  cha 
racter  of  its  buildings,  as  well  as  from  other  causes  we  do  not 
choose  to  mention,  was  called  Hasty-Pudding),  with  the  rest  of 
the  town,  was,  usually,  in  very  high  floods,  overflowed.  Such 
was  the  fact  in  the  present  instance,  and  boats  were  busily 
engaged  in  transporting  persons  over  the  submerged  road.  As 
you  stood  near  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  looked  up  the  cur 
rent,  a  scene  of  considerable  interest,  and,  even  grandeur,  pre 
sented  itself.  At  that  time,  the  innumerable  dams  higher  up 
the  stream,  that  have  been  since  constructed,  had  not  been  built, 
nor  had  the  rocks,  at  the  throat,  been  blasted  to  make  a  wider 
egress.  The  ice,  which  then  rushed  down,  as  it  were  by  agree 
ment,  simultaneously  and  in  huge  blocks — but,  now-a-days,  at 
intervals,  and  broken  up  by  falling  over  the  dams — unable  to 
escape  in  the  eager  rivalry  of  the  cakes  to  pass  each  other,  was 
jammed  in  the  throat,  and  piled  up  high  in  the  air,  looking  like 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  251 

ice-bergs  that  had  floated  from  the  North  Pole.  You  saw  the 
stream,  at  all  times,  rapid,  and  now,  swollen  vastly  beyond  its 
ordinary  proportions,  rushing  with  ten-fold  force,  and  hurrying, 
in  its  channel,  with  hoarse  sounds,  the  ice-cakes,  which,  in  the 
emulous  race,  grated  against,  and,  sometimes,  mutually  des 
troyed  one  another,  to  drive  some  under  the  icy  barrier,  thence 
to  glide  away  to  the  ocean,  and  to  toss  others  high  above  the 
foaming  torrent  on»the  collected  masses,  more  gradually  to  find 
their  way  to  the  same  bourne.  Looking  away  from  the  chan 
nel,  one  saw  the  cakes  caught  in  the  eddies,  whirled  up  against 
the  banks,  and,  in  some  instances,  forced  into  smoother  and 
shoaler  water,  where  they  grounded,  or  were  floated  into  little 
creeks  and  bays  formed  by  the  irregularities  of  the  shores. 
These  quiet  places  were,  of  course,  on  the  side  nearest  the  town, 
the  opposite  bank  being  too  abrupt  and  the  water  too  deep,  for 
there  was  the  channel,  and  there  the  water  tore  along  with  the 
greatest  violence. 

In  one  of  these  placid  bays  a  party  of  schoolboys  were  amus 
ing  themselves  with  getting  upon  the  loose  blocks  and  pushing 
them  about  like  boats.  The  amusement  appeared  to  be  unat 
tended  with  danger,  the  place  being  so  far  from  the  current,  and 
the  water  but  two  or  three  feet  deep.  The  children,  therefore, 
were  but  little  noticed,  especially  as  they  were  at  quite  a  dis 
tance  from  where  the  multitude  of  spectators  was  assembled, 
being  considerably  higher  up  and  near  the  flat-land,  bearing  the 
undignified  name  which  only  historical  accuracy  compels  us  to 
introduce.  After  a  time  a  cake,  on  which  one  of  the  boys  was 
standing,  began  slowly  to  slip  away  from  the  shore.  So  gradu 
ally  was  this  done  that  it  was  unobserved  by  the  boys  themselves 
until  it  had  quite  separated  itself  from  the  neighborhood  of  the 
other  cakes,  so  that  no  assistance  could  be  rendered,  when  one 
of  his  companions  cried  out  to  the  little  fellow  upon  it,  to  push 
for  the  shore.  This  he  had  already  been  attempting  to  do,  but 


252  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

in  spite  of  all  exertions  he  was  unable  to  come  nearer.  On 
the  contrary,  it  was  evident  he  was  receding.  The  water  had 
now  become  so  deep  that  his  pole  could  no  longer  reach  the 
bottom.  The  current  had  drawn  in  the  cake,  and  was  sweeping 
it  with  its  precious  freight  to  destruction.  The  children  set  up 
a  cry  of  alarm,  which  was  heard  by  the  spectators  below,  and 
first  attracted  their  attention. 

A  thrill  of  horror  ran  through  the  crowd.  Men  drew  in  their 
breath  hard,  and  women  shrieked,  unable  to  turn  away  their 
eyes,  fastened  by  a  terrible  fascination  on  the  peril.  Horrid 
apprehensions  invaded  the  mind  of  many  a  parent.  The  doomed 
boy  might  be  his  own  son.  Despairing  glances  were  cast  around 
in  every  direction  for  help.  In  vain  :  none  could  be  given. 
There  was  time  for  nothing :  with  every  second  the  child  was 
swept  more  rapidly  to  destruction. 

Meanwhile  the  brave  little  fellow,  planted  firmly  on  the 
centre  of  the  cake,  was  balancing  himself  with  the  pole,  and 
intrepidly  confronting  the  danger  he  could  not  avoid.  Not  a 
cry  escaped,  nor  did  his  self-possession  desert  him.  As  the 
vexed  and  whirling  water  raised  up  the  one  side  or  the  other  of 
his  frail  bark,  he  would  incline  his  body  in  this  or  that  direction 
to  preserve  the  equilibrium,  now  standing  upright  and  now 
cowering  close  to  the  surface  of  the  uncertain  footing.  And 
now  the  block  approached  the  throat,  where  the  torrent  ran  the 
swiftest  and  was  most  turbulent.  The  child  seemed  to  have 
escaped  thus  far  by  miracle,  but  now  it  appeared  impossible 
he  would  be  able  to  maintain  his  place.  His  head  must  become 
dizzy,  his  courage  fail  in  the  awful  confusion  of  so  many  threat 
ening  dangers  ;  the  tormented  waves  must  upset  the  block,  or 
another  must  strike  against  it  and  cast  the  boy  into  the  water. 
And  now  the  cake  has  reached  the  icy  barrier  stretched  across 
the  stream.  It  strikes  ;  it  is  sucked  in  below  and  disappears. 
The  spell-bound  spectators,  their  eyes  fastened  upon  the 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  253 

danger  of  the  boy,  had  not  noticed  the  figure  of  a  man,  who, 
descending  the  opposite  bank,  and  clambering  at  considerable 
risk  over  the  masses  of  heaped  up  ice,  stood  waiting  for  the 
approach  of  the  child.  So  truly  had  he  judged  the  sweep  of  the 
current,  that  he  had  planted  himself  upon  the  edge  of  the  ice  at 
the  precise  spot  where  the  block  struck.  Reaching  out  his  arm 
at  the  moment  when  it  slipped  beneath,  he  seized  the  boy  by  the 
collar  of  his  jacket  and  drew  him  to  the  place  on  which  he 
stood.  As  soon  as  the  crowd  caught  sight  of  the  man,  they 
saw  that  it  was  Holden. 

The  position  of  the  two  was  still  one  of  danger.  A  false  step, 
the  separating  of  the  ice,  the  yielding  of  a  cake  might  precipi 
tate  both  into  the  torrent.  But  the  heart  of  the  man  had 
never  felt  the  emotion  of  fear.  He  cast  his  eyes  deliberately 
round,  and  with  a  prompt  decision  took  his  course.  Raising 
the  rescued  child  in  his  arms,  he  started  in  the  direction  of  the 
wharf,  built  just  below  the  narrow  opening.  Springing  with 
great  agility  and  strength  over  the  blocks,  selecting  for  footing 
those  cakes  which  seemed  thickest  and  fastened  in  firmest,  he 
made  his  way  over  the  barrier  and  bounded  safely  on  the  land. 
The  spectators,  seeing  the  direction  he  was  taking,  had  run 
down,  many  of  them,  to  the  place,  and  were  waiting  to  receive 
them.  * 

"  I  vow/'  said  our  friend,  Tom  Gladding,  who  was  among  the 
first  to  welcome  Holden,  "  if  it  ain't  little  Jim  Davenport. 
Why,  Jim,  you  come  pretty  nigh  gitting  a  ducking." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy,  carelessly,  as  if  he  had  been  engaged  in 
a  frolic,  "  I  wet  my  shoes  some,  and  the  lower  part  of  my 
trousers." 

Here  a  man  came  hastening  through  the  crowd,  for  whom  all 
made  way.  It  was  Mr.  Davenport.  He  had  been,  like  the 
rest,  a  witness  of  the  danger  and  the  rescue,  but  knew  not  that 
it  was  his  own  son  who  had  made  the  perilous  passage.  But  a 


254  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

report,  running  as  if  by  magic  from  one  to  another,  had  reached 
his  ears,  and  lie  was  now  hurrying  to  discover  its  truth.  It  was, 
indeed,  his  son,  and  Holden  was  his  preserver.  He  advanced 
to  the  boy,  and  examined  him  from  head  to  foot,  as  if  to  assure 
himself  of  his  safety  before  he  spoke  a  word.  Shaking  with 
agitation,  he  then  turned  to  Holden,  and  grasping  his  hand, 
wrung  it  convulsively. 

"  May  God  forget  me,  Mr.  Holdeu,"  he  stammered,  in  a 
broken  voice,  "  if  I  forget  this  service,"  and  taking  the  boy  by 
the  hand  he  led  him  home. 

"  Well,"  said  Gladding,  who  had  been  looking  on,  "  Jim  don't 
mind  it  much,  but  I  guess  it'll  do  old  Davenport  good." 

Holden,  according  to  his  custom,  seemed  indisposed  to  enter 
into  conversation  with  those  around  him,  or  to  accept  the 
civilities  tendered,  and  started  off  as  soon  as  possible,  upon  his 
solitary  way.  As  he  emerged  from  the  crowd,  he  caught  sight 
of  the  advancing  figures  of  Faith  and  of  her  companions,  who 
had  more  leisurely  approached,  and  stopped  to  greet  them. 
From  them  he  seemed  to  receive  with  pleasure  the  congratula 
tions  showered  upon  him,  though  he  disclaimed  all  merit  for 
himself. 

"  Be  the  praise,"  he  said,  devoutly,  "  given  to  Him  who, 
according  to  the  purpose  of  his  own  will,  maketh  and  destroyeth. 
The  insensible  block  of  ice  and  I  were  only  instruments  in  His 
hands."  He  turned  away,  and  walking  rapidly  was  soon  out 
of  sight. 

Constable  Basset,  who  was  present,  had  just  sense  enough  to 
understand  that  this  was  no  occasion  for  his  interference,  and 
although  he  followed  the  retreating  figure  of  the  Solitary  with 
longing  eyes,  while  his  hands  clutched  at  the  writ,  ventured  on 
no  attempt  to  exercise  his  authority. 


THE    LOST    HUNTER.  255 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

We  talk  of  love  and  pleasure— but  'tis  all 
A  tale  of  falsehood.    Life's  made  up  of  glcom : 

The  fairest  scenes  are  clad  in  ruin's  pall, 
The  loveliest  pathway  leads  but  to  the  tomb. 

PERCIVAL. 

AFTER  the  event  just  recorded,  it  may  well  be  supposed  that 
all  further  legal  proceedings  against  the  Recluse  were  aban 
doned.  They  had  been  commenced  only  to  gratify  the  wounded 
pride  of  Davenport,  and  since  the  preservation  of  the  life  of  his 
son  by  Holden,  the  community  would  have  cried  shame  on  him 
had  the  matter  been  pursued  further.  But  no  such  public  sen 
timent  was  needed  in  order  to  induce  Davenport  to  give  the 
justice  and  Basset  a  hint  to  do  nothing  more.  He  was  really 
grateful,  though  feeling  no  compunction  for  his  conduct,  easily 
persuading  himself  that  it  had  been  prompted  by  a  love  of 
justice,  and  a  desire  to  protect  the  interests  of  religion. 

Holden  could,  therefore,  without  fear  of  the  consequences, 
resume  openly  his  usual  visits  to  the  village.  Of  late  they  had 
been  more  than  usually  frequent  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Armstrong, 
by  whom  he  seemed  almqst  as  much  attracted  as  by  Faith' 
With  the  former  the  conversation  usually  turned  upon  points  of 
theology  that  every  day  appeared  to  assume  with  Armstrong 
deeper  importance,  with  the  latter  on  the  effects  produced  by 
the  teachings  of  Holden  among  the  Indians.  For  since  his 
exile  at  the  Patrnos  of  the  Indian  village,  a  new  subject  had 
engaged  the  attention  of  the  Solitary,  to  which  with  characte- 


256  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

ristic  energy  he  had  devoted  the  powers  of  his  soul — the  conver 
sion  of  the  poor  wretches  who  had  kindly  harbored  and  pro 
tected  him.  To  his  sanguine  expectations,  expressed  in  the 
impassioned  language  of  Scripture  he  loved  to  use,  the 
enthusiastic  girl  would  listen,  with  the  warmest  interest. 
Accustomed  to  assign  every  event  to  an  overruling  Providence, 
she  thought  she  now  saw  clearly  the  hand  of  a  superior  Power 
in  the  occurrences  which  had  compelled  Holden,  in  the  first 
instance,  to  take  up  his  temporary  residence  among  them. 
Temporary  residence,  we  say,  because  the  Solitary  had  since 
returned  to  his  hut,  which  was  at  the  distance  of  only  two  or 
three  miles  from  the  cabins  of  his  former  protectors,  ^olitude 
he  found  was  necessary  in  order  to  enable  him  the  better  to 
perform  his  new  duties,  and  the  distance  was  too  slight  to  inter 
pose  any  serious  obstacle^  or  even  inconvenience. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things,  when  some  weeks  after  the 
freshet,  Mr.  Armstrong  acquainted  his  daughter,  at  the  break 
fast-table,  with  his  intention  to  visit  Holden  that  day. 

"  It  is  a  long  time,"  he  said  (four  days  had  elapsed),  "  since 
we  have  seen  him,  and  there  are  things  upon  my  mind. I  would 
gladly  speak  about." 

A  few  months  before,  such  a  declaration  from  her  father 
would  have  suprised  Faith,  but  now  she  regarded  it  as  quite 
natural.  The  intimacy  between  the  family  and  the  Recluse  had 
become  such,  and  the  commanding  character  of  the  latter  had 
acquired  so  great  an  influence  over  both  its  members,  that 
neither  of  them  saw  anything  strange  in  the  deference  paid  him. 
She,  therefore,  acquiesced  with  some  common-place  remark  in 
the  proposal,  begging  to  be  remembered  to  the  old  man. 

Accordingly,  after  breakfast,  Mr.  Armstrong  walked  down  to 
the  wharf,  thinking  it.  probable  he  might  find  some  boat  going 
down  the  river,  by  which  he  might  be  left  at  the  island,  intend 
ing,  should  he  not  find  the  Solitary  there,  to  go  to  the  Indian 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  257 

settlement.  Nor  was  he  disappointed.  He  found  a  fisherman 
making  preparations  to  cast  off  his  boat,  who  cheerfully  con 
sented  to  convey  him  to  the  place  of  destination.  Mr.  Arm 
strong  jumped  into  the  boat,  and,  the  wind  favoring,  they 
rapidly  scudded  down  the  stream. 

The  fisherman,  a  fine,  frank  fellow,  of  some  thirty  years  of 
age,  to  whom  Mr.  Armstrong  was  well  known,  at  least,  by 
reputation,  although  the  recognition  was  not  mutual,  endea 
vored  to  engage  him  in  conversation,  but  without  effect. 
Although  answering  politely  any  questions,  he  made  no  remarks 
in  return,  and  the  conversation  soon  languished  for  want  of 
material  to  support  it.  Poor  Josiah  Sill,  finding  his  social  qua 
lities  not  appreciated,  soon  himself  relapsed  into  silence,  wonder 
ing  what  could  induce  his  companion  to  seek  Holden,  and 
connecting  his  reserve  in  some  mysterious  way  with  the  visit. 
Finding  the  silence  not  altogether  agreeable,  Josiah  finally 
burst  out  with  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  which  he  amused  himself  with 
whistling  together  with  some  other  favorite  tunes,  until  they 
reached  the  island.  As  they  approached  they  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Holden  entering  the  house,  and  Josiah  landed  his  passenger, 
promising  to  call  for  him  on  his  return  in  the  afternoon,  though 
Armstrong  expressed  a  doubt  whether  he  should  remain  so 
long. 

"  If  you  ain't  here,  there  won't  be  no  harm  done,"  said  the 
good-natured  fellow,  "  and  it  won't  take  a  minute  to  stop." 

Mr.  Armstrong  having  thanked  him  and  wished  him  success, 
advanced  to  the  cabin. 

He  found  Holden  in  the  outer  room,  engaged  in  his  usual 
employment,  when  at  home,  of  weaving  baskets.  A  large 
quantity  of  prepared  saplings,  split  very  thin,  lay  scattered 
around  him,  while  bundles  of  walnut  poles,  the  crude  material 
of  his  manufacture,  were  piled  up  in  the  corners  ready  for  use. 
With  a  quick  and  dexterous  hand  the  Solitary  wove  in  the 


258  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

ribbon-like  pieces,  showing  great  familiarity  with  the  work. 
Without  desisting  from  his  labor,  he  expressed  pleasure  at  the 
visit  of  his  friend,  and  requested  him  to  be  seated. 

"  I  am  honored,"  he  said,  "  this  day.  To  what  shall  I 
ascribe  the  notice  of  the  wealthy  Mr.  Armstrong  ?" 

There  was  a  slight  tone  of  irony  in  the  words.  It  probably 
was  observed  by  Mr.  Armstrong,  for,  with  some  feeling,  he 
replied  : 

"  Speak  to  me  not  so  coldly.  And  yet,"  he  added, 
dejectedly,  "  I  deserve  that  all  the  world  should  reject  me. 
Neither  the  happy  nor  the  miserable  feel  sympathy  for  me." 

The  wayward  humor  of  Holden  was  evidently  softened  by  the 
sadness  of  the  sweet,  low  voice. 

"  Each  heart,"  he  said,  "  knoweth  best  its  own  bitterness, 
and  I  repent  me  of  my  rudeness.  But  when  I  saw  thee  here  I 
could  not  but  remember  that  I  had  dwelt  long  years  in  this 
dwelling,  and"— he  hesitated,  and  Armstrong  finished  the 
sentence  : 

"  And  you  would  say  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  darkened 
your  door.  Well  may  it  be  called  darkness  where  my  unhappy 
shadow  falls.  But  forgive  me  :  it  is  only  lately  that  I  learned 
to  know  you." 

"  Thou  errest,  James  Armstrong,"  returned  Holden,  "  if  thou 
thinkest  thou  knowest  me,  or  will  ever  know  me.  Yet,  after 
all,"  he  added  in  a  gentler  manner,  "  thou  art  right.  Yes,  know 
me  as  a  fellow  sinner,  journeying  with  thee  to  eternity." 

"  As  my  friend/7  replied  Armstrong  ;  "  as  the  guide  whose 
deeper  experience  in  heavenly  things  shall  teach  me  the  way  to 
heaven,  unless  by  some  inscrutable  decree  I  am  excluded." 

"  How  has  my  heart  been  open,  how  has  it  longed  for  years 
to  meet  thine  !  How  gladly  would  I  have  poured  out  my  grief 
into  thy  bosom  as  into  that  of  a  brother  1"  cried  Holden,  his 
voice  choked  with  emotion. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  253 

The  countenance  of  Mr.  Armstrong  betrayed  astonishment. 
"  How  is  this  ?"  he  said.  "  I  never  knew  it.  You  have  always 
been  to  me  as  a  common  acquaintance." 

A  shade  fell  on  the  face  of  Holden.  He  misunderstood  the 
meaning  of  the  other.  He  supposed  the  phrase  applicable  to 
the  feelings  of  Armstrong  towards  himself,  and  not  as  descrip 
tive  of  his  own  conduct  to  Armstrong.  "  For  the  sake  of  the 
little  Faith,"  he  said  coldly,  "  who  is  now  a  lovely  woman,  have 
T  highly  regarded  thee." 

"  It  is  even  so,"  said  Armstrong,  in  a  melancholy  tone.  "  There 
are  none  left  to  love  me  for  my  own  sake.  Yet  why  should  I 
quarrel  with  my  own  daughter?  Let  me  rather  be  grateful 
that  she  has  been  the  means  of  attracting  one  being  towards 
me.  How  can  I  show  my  friendship  ?  How  can  I  make  you 
my  friend  ?" 

"I  am  thy  friend,"  cried  Holden,  grasping  his  hand  with 
another  revulsion  of  feeling.  "  Put  me  to  any  proof.  I  will  not  fail." 

"  If  money  could  avail  with  a  man  like  you,"  continued  Arm 
strong,  "it  should  not  be  wanting.  If  ease  or  luxury  could 
tempt — but  you  have  trampled  them  under  foot,  and  what  are 
tkey  to  one  whose  conversation  is  in  heaven  ?" 

Holden,  while  he  was  speaking,  had  risen  from  his  seat  and 
strode  twice  or  thrice  across  the  room.  When  Armstrong  had 
finished  speaking  he  again  approached  him 

"  It  is  not  for  naught,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  the  Lord  hath 
conducted  thee  this  day  unto  me.  Speak  what  he  shall  put  into 
thy  mouth  to  say." 

"  I  would  have  your  confidence,"  said  Armstrong.  "  As  the 
sick  beast  or  the  hurt  bird  knows  by  an  infallible  instinct  what 
herb  or  plant  will  best  promote  its  cure,  so  it  seems  to  me  does 
Providence  direct  me  to  you.  Repulse  me  not,  but  be  my  kind 
physician." 


260  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"  How  can  the  physician  prescribe,  if  he  knoweth  not  the 
complaint." 

"  You  shall  know  if  you  have  patience  to  listen.  But  I  must 
go  back  years  to  make  myself  intelligible." 

"Speak,  my  brother,"  said  Holden,  gently,  "not  a  word  shall 
fall  in  vain." 

"  Then  listen,"  said  Armstrong,  "  and  learn  what  sorrows  the 
outward  shows  of  prosperity  may  gild." 

Holden  resumed  his  seat,  and  Armstrong  began  his  relation. 

"My  parents,"  he  said,  "had  but  two  children,  myself  and 
my  brother,  who  was  younger  by  two  years.  The  tenderest 
affection  existed  between  us,  and  we  were  never  separated  until 
I  went  to  college,  where,  after  a  couple  of  years,  I  was  joined 
by  him,  and  where  we  remained  together  until  the  close  of  my 
collegiate  course.  I  then  returned  home,  in  order  to  take  my 
place  in  the  mercantile  business,  in  which  our  father  was 
engaged.  My  brother  George  was  destined  for  one  of  the  pro 
fessions.  During  the  last  year  of  his  stay  at  college,  his  letters 
to  me  were  full  of  the  praises  of  a  young  lady  whose  acquain 
tance  he  had  made,  and  in  vacations  he  was  never  weary  of 
talking  of  her  beauty  and  amiable  qualities.  I  was  present 
when  he  took  his  degree,  and  at  a  party,  given  during  my  stay, 
in  the  town,  he  introduced  me  to  her.  Alas  !  that  introduction 
was  the  cause  of  the  happiness  and  the  wretchedness  of  my  life. 
It  found  me  a  wife,  and  lost  me  a  brother.  I  cannot  describe 
the  impression  which  the  first  sight  of  Frances  made  upon  me. 
Nor  did  she  seem  averse  to  my  attentions.  I  offered  myself, 
and  was  accepted." 

"And  didst  thou  nothing  to  alienate  her  affections  from  thy 
brother  ?"  inquired  Holden,  in  a  hoarse  voice. 

"  She  never  regarded  him  with  more  than  a  passing  liking," 
returned  Armstrong,  "nor  do  I  believe  she  had  an  idea  of  the 
fervor  of  his  affection.  God  be  my  witness,  I  never  spoke  a 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  261 

word  in  his  disparagement.  We  were  married,  and  shortly 
after  George  began  to  exhibit  indications  of  insanity.  By  the 
advice  of  physicians  he  was  taken  to  an  asylum  for  the  insane, 
where  it  was  hoped,  under  proper  treatment,  his  reason  might 
be  restored.  May  God  pardon  me,  who  am  the  cause  of  the 
horrid  tragedy,  but,  by  some  negligence  of  his  keeper,  he  was 
permitted  to  escape — his  body  was  found,  after  some  days,  in  a 
neighboring  pond."  Here  Armstrong  paused  and  covered  his 
face  with  both  hands. 

"  The  body  was  recognized  as  thy  brother's  ?"  inquired 
Holden. 

"  It  had  been  in  the  water  too  long  to  be  perfectly  recog 
nized,  but  the  height,  and  age,  and  color  of  the  hair,  and  what 
there  was  left  to  make  it  distinguishable,  were  sufficient  to 
identify  it  as  George's." 

"  There  is  no  certainty  then.    Thy  brother  may  be  yet  alive." 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  his  death.  Thirty  years  have 
elapsed,  and  were  he  in  existence  he  must  have  been  heard  of. 
Twelve  years  afterwards  my  Frances  died,  leaving  me  two  chil 
dren,  a  son  and  infant  daughter.  God  saw  fit,  in  his  providence, 
to  take  my  boy,  but  left  me  Faith,  to  lay  my  grey  hairs  in  the 
grave.  It  will  not  be  long  before  she  will  do  me  that  service." 

Mr.  Armstrong  ceased  speaking,  and  silence  succeeded,  which 
was  at  last  broken  by  the  Solitary.  He  bent  his  brows  with  a 
keen,  searching  glance  upon  his  guest,  and  said  : 

"  Thou  wert  false  to  thy  brother." 

"  Yes,  and  his  blood  cries  against  me.'  Whither  shall  I  turn 
to  hide  my  guilt  ?" 

"  Thou  dost  repent,  then,  of  thy  treachery  ?"  inquired  Holden, 
who  seemed  determined  to  probe  the  wound  to  the  bottom. 

"  Alas  1  restore  to  me  the  morning  of  life  ;  place  me  in  the 
same  circumstances,  and  I  should  fall  again.  I  should  be  irre 
sistibly  attracted  by  a  heart  that  seemed  made  for  mine." 


•^OSS  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"  In  her  arms  thou  didst  forget  the  brother,  whom  thy  cruelty 
had  doomed  to  the  maniac's  cell  and  chain  ?"  said  Holden. 

"  Never  !  his  image  is  graven  on  my  heart.  I  have  never 
ceased  to  think  of  him." 

"Thou  wouldst  know  him  should  he  stand  before  thee  ?" 

"Know  him!  aye,  amidst  ten  thousand.  No  years  could 
make  such  changes  as  to  hide  him  from  me.  But  he  is  in  his 
grave,  while  his  murderer  lives." 

"  Thou  didst  find  compensation  for  lamentation  over  the  dead, 
in  the  caresses  of  the  living  ?" 

"  True,  too  true.  While  Frances  lived,  she  was  my  heaven. 
It  was  necessary  that  this  idol  should  be  torn  from  me.  My 
son,  too.  Oh,  James,  my  son  !  my  son  !" 

Holden,  during  the  conversation,  had  been  unable  to  keep  his 
seat,  but  with  the  restlessness  of  his  nature  had  been  walking 
across  the  room,  stopping  occasionally  before  Armstrong.  The 
last  expression  of  feeling  evidently  affected  him.  The  rapidity 
of  his  steps  diminished  ;  his  motions  became  less  abrupt  ;  and 
presently  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  Mr.  Armstrong. 

"  Thy  tale,"  he  said,  "  is  one  of  sorrow  and  suffering.  Thou 
didst  violate  thy  duty,  and  art  punished.  No  wrong  shall 
escape  the  avenger.  As  it  is  written,  '  Vengeance  is  mine, 
I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord.'  But  it  is  also  written,  '  He  is 
gracious  and  merciful,  slow  to  anger,  and  of  great  kindness,  and 
repenteth  him  of  the  evil.'  Thou  art  after  all  but  an  instru 
ment  in  the  hand  of  One  mighty  to  do.  Even  out  of  crime  He 
works  out  the  purposes  of  his  will.  Thou  knowest  no.t  from 
what  sin  and  sorrow  an  early  death  may  be  the  refuge.  Com 
mit  thyself  to  the  hands  of  the  Lord,  nor  grieve  as  one  without 
hope.  Thy  brother  liveth,  and  thou  shalt  yet  behold  him." 

"  I  know  he  lives,  and  at  the  Judgment  shall  I  behold  him," 
said  Armstrong,  shuddering,  "  to  upbraid  me  with  his  murder." 

"  Not  to  upbraid,  but  to  forgive,  and  to  imprint  upon  thy 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  263 

brow  the  seal  of  reconciliation,  as  I  now,  by  this  token,  vow  to 
thee  an  everlasting  love."  So  saying,  Holden  bent  down,  and 
his  lips  touched  the  forehead  of  Armstrong. 

We  do  not  know  that  we  ought  to  be  surprised  at  anything 
in  the  conduct  of  this  extraordinary  man.  The  principles  by 
which  he  regulated  himself,  if  he  had  any  that  were  fixed  and 
determinate,  and  was  not  impelled  to  his  actions  by  the  impulse 
of  the  moment,  were  so  different  from  those  of  other  men,  that 
it  is  difficult  to  reduce  them  to  the  same  standard,  or,  indeed,  to 
assign  them  to  any  standard.  Be  it  as  it  may,  so  accustomed 
was  Mr.  Armstrong  to  his  ways,  that  so  singular  a  thing  did  not 
impress  him  as  strange.  He  only  looked  up  with  eyes  dimmed 
with  tears,  and,  in  broken  accents,  thanked  the  Solitary. 

The  rest  of  the  time  spent  by  Armstrong  on  the  island,  was 
passed  in  conversation  of  very  much  the  same  description.  It 
would  seem  from  his  self-reproaches  and  confessions,  that  during 
the  lives  of  his  wife  and  son,  the  melancholy  death  of  his 
brother  had  made  no  great  impression  upon  him.  Happy  in  a 
woman  he  adored,  and  who  returned  his  affection;  with  a 
blooming  family  around  him  ;  immersed  in  thoughts  of  business  ; 
and  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  large  fortune,  there  seemed  nothing 
wanting  to  complete  his  felicity.  He  remembered,  too,  that 
there  had  been  an  instance  of  insanity  in  his  family,  some  years 
before  the  birth  of  himself,  which  had  terminated  fatally,  the 
cause  of  which  could  not  be  traced,  and  felt  disposed,  therefore, 
with  the  natural  tendency  to  self-exculpation  of  the  happy,  to 
find  the  reason  for  the  tragical  end  of  his  brother  in  hereditary 
infirmity,  rather  than  attach  any  serious  blame  to  himself  for 
securing  the  affections  of  a  lady,  whom  he  was  assured  had 
never  loved  another.  But  when  after  a  few  years  of  unclouded 
bliss,  first  his  wife,  and  then  his  son,  was  taken  away,  all  things 
assumed  an  altered  aspect.  He  found  himself  the  last  male  of 
his  family,  his  name  about  to  become  extinct  and  forgotten, 


264  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

with  only  one  other  being  in  the  world  in  whose  veins  ran  his 
blood,  and  for  whose  life  his  paternal  solicitude  almost  daily 
trembled.     His  mind  brooded  day  by*  day  more  and  more  over 
his  misfortunes,  which  gradually  began  to  wear  the  form   of 
judgments,  the  object  and  result  of  which  must  be  to  erase  his 
hated  name  from  the  earth.     As  Faith  grew  up,  his  anxieties 
on  her  account  diminished,  but  that  only  left  him  the  wider 
scope  to  dwell  upon  wild  imaginations  and  make  himself  more 
the  subject  of  his  thoughts.     Of  a  grave  and  reflective  cast  of 
mind,  he  had  even  from  his  early  years  respected  the  duties  of 
religion,  and  now  he  turned  to  it  for  consolation.     But  the  very 
sources  whence  he  should  have  derived  comfort  and  peace  were 
fountains  of  disquiet.     His  diseased  mind  seemed  incapable  of 
appropriating   to   itself    the   gentle   promises   of    pardon   and 
acceptance,  but  trembled  at  the  denunciations  of  punishment. 
The  universal  Father  came  not  to  him  with  open  arms,  as  to 
welcome  a  returned  prodigal,  but  frowned  with  the  severity  of 
a  Judge   about   to   pronounce   sentence.     Whithersoever   the 
unhappy  man  turned,  he  saw  no  ray  of  light  to  gild  the  dark 
ness,  and  he  himself  sometimes  feared  lest  reason  should  desert 
her  throne.     But  his  friends  felt  no  apprehensions  of  the  kind. 
In  their  presence,  though  grave,  he  was  always  reasonable  and 
on  his  guard — for  he  shrunk  with  the  sensitiveness  of  a  delicate 
mind  from  exposing  its  wounds — nor  with  the  exception  of  the 
minister,  and  now  Holden,  was  there  one  who  suspected  his  con 
dition,    and   they   probably   did   not   realize   it   fully.      These 
remarks  may  serve   to   abate,  if  not   to   remove   entirely  the 
reader's  surprise,  that  one  with  the  education,  and  in  the  posi 
tion  of  Armstrong,  should  have  sought  counsel  from  Holden. 
But  it  may  be,  that  the  condition  of  mind  to  which  Armstrong 
was  approaching — similar  in  some  respects  to  that  of  the  Soli- 
tary— established  a  sort  of  relation  or  elective  affinity  between 
them,  operating  like  the  influence  of  the  magnet,  to  attract  one 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  265 

to  the  other.  We  have  seen  how  fond  Holden  was  of  visiting 
the  house  of  Mr.  Armstrong.  Could  it  be  that  this  mysterious 
influence,  all  unconsciously  to  himself,  led  his  steps  thither,  and 
that  afar  off  he  dimly  espied  the  talisman  that  should  establish 
a  full  community  between  them  ?  Or  was  not  this  community 
already  established  ?  How  else  account  for  the  visit  of  Arm 
strong,  the  strange  conversation,  the  confessions,  concluded  by 
an  act,  tender,  and  perhaps  graceful,  but  only  such  as  was 
to  be  expected  from  a  deranged  man  ? 

Josiah  Sill,  true  to  his  promise,  arrived  while  the  two  men 
were  stilt  talking,  heedless  of  the  passage  of  time.     Mr.  Arm 
strong  stepped  on  board,  and   the    boat   resumed  her  course. 
The  wind  was  drawing  down  the  river,  remaining  nearly  in  the 
same  point  from  which  it  had  blown  in  the  morning,  and  they 
were  obliged  in  consequence  to  pursue  a  zig-zag  course,  tacking 
from  one  shore  to  the  other.     It  blew  fresh,  and  the  little  ves°- 
sel,  gunwale  down,  with  the  water  sometimes  pouring  over  the 
lee    side,  flew  like   a   bird.     They  had   run  two-thirds  of  the 
distance,  nor  was  the  sun  yet  set,  when   the  wind,  which,  till 
then,  had  blown  pretty  steadily,  began  to  intermit  and  come  in 
flaws  or  puffs,  now  driving  the  small  craft  with  great  rapidity, 
and  now  urging  her  gently  on.     At  an  instant,  when  she  was 
about  to  tack,  having  hardly  head-way  sufficient  to  prevent  mis 
sing  stays,  a  sudden  and  violent  puff,  from  a  gorge  in  the  hills, 
struck  the  sail.     Had  it  come  at  any  other  moment,  the  catas 
trophe  that  followed  could  not  have  happened  ;   but  the  boat 
lying  almost  motionless,  received  all  the  force  of  the  wind,  and 
instantly  upset.     Mr.  Armstrong,  unable  to  swim,  and  encum 
bered  by  his  clothes,  sank,  but  was  caught  by  the  strong  arm 
of  Sill,  and  pulled  upon  the  keel.     In  a  state  of  great  discom 
fort,   though  of  safety,  there  both   remained   for   some  time, 
waiting  for   assistance.     None  arriving,   Sill,  at  last,  became 
impatient,  and  as  he  was  an  excellent  swimmer,  proposed  to  throw 

12 


266  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

off  the  heavier  part  of  his  clothing,  and  swim  to  land  to  hasten 
succor. .  As  Mr.  Armstrong  made  no  objection,  and  the  danger 
appeared  less  than  what  was  likely  to  proceed  from  a  long  con 
tinuance  on  the  boat,  exposed  in  their  wet  clothes  to  the  wind, 
the  shore  being  but  a  few  rods  distant,  Sill,  after  divesting 
himself  of  a  part  of  his  clothes,  plunged  into  the  water,  and 
with  vigorous  strokes  swam .  towards  the  land.  He  had  pro 
ceeded  but  a  short  way  when,  either  in  consequence  of  becoming 
benumbed  by  the  coldness  of  the  water  after  being  chilled  by 
exposure  to  the  wind,  or'  from  being  seized  by  cramp,  or  from 
what  other  cause,  the  unfortunate  man  suddenly  turning  his  face 
towards  Armstrong,  and  uttering  a  cry  of  alarm,  sank  and  dis 
appeared  from  sight.  Once  more  only  was  anything  seen  of 
him,  when  brought  near  the  surface,  perhaps,  by  an  eddy  in  the 
stream,  a  hand  emerged,  and  for  an  instant  the  fingers  quivered 
in  the  air. 

With  a  sort  of  desperate  horror  Armstrong  gazed  upon  the 
appalling  spectacle.  The  expression  of  anguish  on  the  face  of 
the  drowning  fisherman,  as  his  distended  eyes  met  his  own, 
froze  his  blood,  and  left  a  memory  behind  to  last  to  his  dying 
day.  Fascinated,  his  eyes  dwelt  on  the  spot  where  the  fisher 
man  sunk,  and  for  a  moment  a  terrible  temptation  was 
whispered  into  his  ear  quietly,  to  drop  into  the  river,  and 
accompany  the  spirit  of  the  drowned  man.  But  it  lasted  only 
a  moment,  and  the  instinct  of  life  resumed  its  power. 

It  was  not  long  ere  his  condition  was  discovered  from  the 
shore,  when  chilled  and  shivering  he  was  taken  off  by  a  boat 
that  put  out  to  his  rescue.  On  arriving  at  his  home,  Faith, 
excessively  alarmed,  immediately  dispatched  the  faithful  Felix 
for  the  doctor. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  26t 


CHAPTER  XXV 

How  sweetly  could  I  lay  my  head 

Within  the  cold  grave's  silent  breast, 
Where  sorrow's  tears  no  more  are  shed, 

No  more  the  ills  of  life  molest. 

MOORE 

MR.  ARMSTRONG  escaped,  to  all  appearance,  with  a  cold,  from 
the  accident.  But  although  this  seemed  the  only  effect  pro 
duced  upon  his  bodily  health,  his  mind  had  suffered  a  severe 
shock  which  was  not  equally  obvious.  Fancies,  each  gloomier 
than  the  preceding,  took,  henceforth,  more  and  more  possession 
of  his  imagination.  He  seemed  the  harbinger  of  misfortune  to 
all  connected  with  him.  Frequently  rose  up  the  image  of  his 
dead  brother,  mingling  with  his  dreams  and  obtruding  itself 
even  into  his  waking  thoughts,  at  one  time  dripping  with  water 

as   when    taken    from    the    pond — ghastly    pale — livid with 

scarcely  distinguishable  lineaments ;  at  another  wrapped  in 
the  dress  of  the  tomb,  and  pointing  with  bony  finger  to  a  new- 
made  grave.  Then  his  wife  would  appear,  holding  their  little 
son  by  the  hand,  and  standing  on  the  opposite  side*  of  a  river 
that  rolled  between,  beckoning  him  to  cross.  But  whenever  he 
made  the  attempt  the  waves  would  close  over  his  head,  and  he 
awoke  with  a  sense  of  suffocation  and  gasping  for  breath.  At 
another  time  the  scene  of  the  drowning  fisherman  would  be 
repeated,  but  with  innumerable  variations.  Sometimes,  in  some 
way  or  other,  Holden  would  be  mixed  up  with  it,  sometimes 
Faith,  and  sometimes,  most  horrible  of  all,  he  himself  would  be 
desperately  struggling  to  hold  Sill  under  water,  till  finally  the 


268  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

yielding  body  sunk,  sunk  into  depths  no  eye  could  fathom.  But 
never  till  the  face  turned  and  transfixed  him  with  the  despairing 
glare  of  those  dreadful  eyes. 

But  we  are  anticipating  and  rather  describing  the  condition 
into  which  his  mind  gradually  fell,  than  its  state  immediately 
after  his  interview  with  the  Solitary.  It  took  some  time  longer 
before  the  idea  that  by  an  inexorable  decree  he  was  doomed  to 
entail  destruction  on  all  connected  with  him,  became  fixed.  For 
awhile  it  floated  uncertainly  and  impalpably  before  him,  and 
only  slowly,  like  an  approaching  spectre,  took  upon  itself  shape 
and  presence.  A  conversation  between  himself  and  his  daughter 
on  the  second  day  after  the  accident,  and  his  conduct  immedi 
ately  thereafter,  may  give  us  some  apprehension  of  the  current 
of  his  thoughts  and  feelings  then. 

"  My  dearest  father,"  said  Faith,  throwing  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  and  repeating  what  she  had  said  more  than  once 
before,  "  oh,  how  thankful  ought  I  to  be  for  the  saving  of 
your  precious  life  !" 

"  We  are  often  thankful  in  our  ignorance,"  said  her  father, 
"for  the  greatest  misfortunes." 

"  Do  you  call  it  a  misfortune  to  me,"  she  cried,  "  that  I  am 
not  left  alone  in  the  world  ?  Oh,  father,  what  should  I  do  with 
out  you  ?"  And  in  spite  of  her  exertions  to  suppress  them,  the 
tears  burst  from  her  eyes. 

"  Come  to  me,  my  child,"  said  Armstrong,  and  he  took  the 
weeping  girl  into  his  arms,  and  leaned  her  head  gently  upon  his 
bosom.  "  Compose  yourself.  Believe  me,  there  are  trials 
harder  to  be  borne  than  the  loss  of  parents." 

"  None,  none  to  me,"  sobbed  Faith.     "  If  it  were  right  I  would 
pray  that  I  might  die  the  same  moment  with  you." 
-    "  It  is  well  for  one  like  me  to  think  often  of  death,"  said  her 
father,  "nor  should  the  young  forget  they  are  mortal.     But 
many  happy  days,  I  trust,  are  reserved  for  my  darling." 


THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"  Happy,  if  you  are  to  share  them  with  me,  father.  But  why 
do  I  weep,"  she  said,  raising  up  her  head  and  smiling  through 
her  tears,  "  at  thinking  of  the  possibility  of  a  misfortune  to 
myself,  when  my  heart  is  swelling  with  thankfulness  for  your 
preservation  ?"  She  arose  from  her  father's  lap,  drew  a  chair  to 
his  side,  and  as  her  custom  was,  took  one  of  his  hands  in  both 
of  hers. 

"  Such  are  the  dispensations  of  Providence,"  said  Armstrong. 
"  The  old  man,  with  white  hair  and  bent  body,  creeps  to  his 
grave,  while  the  infant  that  has  just  learned  to  smile  in  its 
mother's  face,  is  hurried  from  her  arms.  Why  was  it  that  Sill, 
so  strong,  so  happy,  so  young,  with  a  wife  and  children  depend 
ant  on  him  for  support,  should  be  taken  and  I  left  ?" 

"  Why  should  we  curiously  inquire  ?"  replied  Faith.  "If  we 
could  look  behind  the  curtain,  no  doubt  we  should  see  sufficient 
reasons  for  the  choice." 

"When  I  look  back  upon  my  life,"  continued  Armstrong, 
more  distinctly  revealing  the  thought  lurking  in  his  mind,  "it 
seems  as  if  I  were  born  to  be  the  cause  of  misfortune  to  others. 
Had  any  one  else  been  in  the  boat,  the  accident  would  not  have 
happened,  or  certainly  not  terminated  fatally." 

"  Do  not  say  so,  dear  father.  Can  you  regulate  the  winds 
and  waves  ?" 

"  No,  Faith.  Yet  unmanly  as  it  is,  let  me  lament  the  fate 
that  makes  me  the  instrument  to  execute  the  decrees  of  Heaven. 
I  am  a  rod  to  attract  the  fires  that  consume,  while  itself  rises 
unscathed  amid  the  destruction." 

It  seemed  to  Faith  natural  that  her  father  should  be  affected 
by  the  death  of  the  fisherman,  who,  after  saving  his  life,  had 
perished  in  the  attempt  to  bring  rescue,  although  she  thought 
his  expressions  exaggerated.  She  felt  pained  at  his  self- 
reproaches,  but  doubted  not  that  soon  the  keenness  of  regret 
would  lose  its  edge.  In  order  the  sooner,  therefore,  to  produce 


270  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

this  result,  she  attempted  to  divert  his  thoughts  into  another 
channel. 

"  You  are  unjust  to  yourself,  father,"  she  said.  "  How  many 
are  there  to  bless  you  for  charities  known  only  to  themselves 
and  you  ?" 

"  Mention  them  not,  Faith,  crumbs  from  my  superfluity,  like 
those  that  fell  from  the  other  rich  man's  table.  Besides,  of  what 
avail  will  any  charities,  as  you  call  them,  of  mine  be  ?  They 
will  serve  only  to  convey  the  curse  that  attaches  itself  to  me.  I 
tremble  to  think  you  are  my  daughter." 

"  And  I,"  said  Faith,  "  can  never  be  thankful  enough  for 
having  such  a  father.  Ah,  how  happy  we  might  be,  if  you 
would  only  banish  these  fancies  from  your  mind  !" 

"  Thus  it  is,"  said  Armstrong.  "  Did  I  not  say  right  ?  Like 
an  evil  spirit  I  scatter  only  gloom  around  one.  I  will  remove  a 
presence  that  blasts  whatever  it  meets." 

So  saying  he  rose,  and  in  spite  of  the  tearful  entreaties  of  his 
daughter,  walked  into  the  hall,  and  taking  his  great  coat  from 
the  hook  that  held  it,  put  it  on  and  passed  into  the  street. 

Faith,  upon  his  departure,  sunk  into  a  chair,  and  allowed  free 
course  to  her  tears.  They  brought  relief,  and  after  a  few 
moments  she  recovered  composure.  "  This  is  very  foolish," 
she  said  to  herself,  "  to  cry  like  a  child.  My  dear  father 
is  nervous,  and  I  do  not  wonder,  that  shocking  accident 
agitates  him.  I  am  glad  he  is  gone,  for  it  is  better  he  should 
seek  the  society  of  his  friends,  than  sit  here  making  himself 
melancholy  with  me.  I  must  be  cheerful  to  receive  him  when  he 
returns.  At  least,  he  shall  see  no  trace  of  tears. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Armstrong  walked  down  the  street,  but 
shunning  the  sight  of  others,  he  turned  at  the  first  opportunity 
into  an  unfrequented  road.  It  led  towards  the  Severn,  and 
hardly  knowing  how  it  happened,  he  crossed  a  bridge,  and  soon 
found  himself  in  the  woods  that  skirt  the  left  bank  of  that 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  2H 

river.  Unconsciously,  and  as  if  attracted  by  some  spell,  he  was 
directing  his  course  towards  the  scene  of  the  late  disaster.  The 
walk  and  the  solemn  silence  of  the  woods,  in  which  no  sound 
was  heard  except  the  cawing  of  a  watchful  crow,  some  sentinel 
placed  to  give  notice  of  approaching  danger  to  his  companions, 
gradually  subdued  the  excitement  of  his  feelings.  His  pace,  at 
first  rapid,  relaxed,  the  light  began  to  play  upon  the  clouds  that 
brooded  on  his  spirits,  and  he  wondered  at  his  fancies  and  his 
conduct. 

"  How  could  I,"  thought  he,  "  be  so  cruel  to  my  own  Faith  ! 
Her  life  ought  to  be  all  sunshine  and  gladness,  and  would  be 
but  for  me,  and  I  must  sadden  and  darken  it  with  the  baleful 
imaginings  of  a  distempered  mind.  T  must  struggle  harder  and 
pray  oftener  and  more  fervently  to  be  preserved  from  myself. 
And  now  my  soul  feels  the  need  of  communing  with  the  Infinite 
Spirit.  What  fitter  place  for  adoration  than  the  stillness  of 
these  old  woods  ?  Here  worldly  interruptions  cannot  come,  and 
the  veil  between  Him  and  His  creature  is  withdrawn." 

He  stopped.  He  looked  up  into  the  sky,  and  watched  the 
clouds  floating  in  the  blue.  He  glanced  at  the  sun  flaming 
in  golden  magnificence.  His  eyes  fell  on  the  hoary  steins 
of  the  giants  of  the  forest.  He  saw  the  trailing  arbutus,  the 
delicious  herald  of  warmer  suns  and  softer  winds,  creeping  to  his 
feet,  and  raised  his  hands  to  heaven  and  repeated  the  lines  of 
Milton— 

These  are  thy  glorious  works,  Parent  of  Good, 
Almighty,  thine  this  universal  frame, 
Thus  wondrous  fair  ;  Thyself  how  wondrous  then  I 
Unspeakable,  who  sitt'st  above  the  heavens, 
To  us  invisible,  or  dimly  seen 
,    In  these  thy  lowest  works  :  yet  these  declare 
Thy  goodness  beyond  thought  and  power  divine. 

He  stooped  down  and  picked  a  few  bunches  of  the  arbutus, 
and  put  them  in  his  bosom.  "  Faith  loves  flowers,"  he  said, 


272  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"  and  the  sweetness  and  whiteness  of  these  are  types  of  her 
self." 

He  was  now  quite  calm,  and  realized  fully  where  he  was. 
It  is  strange,  he  thought,  how  I  came  hither.  I  am  like  Philip, 
whom  the  Spirit  caught  away. 

He  continued  his  walk,  striving  to  drive  away  the  gloomy 
ideas,  which,  in  spite  of  his  resistance,  threatened  again  to  mas 
ter  him.  With  his  eyes  bent  upon  the  ground,  he  proceeded 
some  distance,  when  a  slight  noise  attracted  his  attention.  He 
raised  his  eyes,  and  discovered  the  cause.  Five  or  six  men 
were  approaching,  bearing,  between  them,  something  on  some 
boards.  Mr.  Armstrong  stopped,  and,  as  they  came  near,  per 
ceived,  it  was  the  body  of  the  drowned  fisherman. 

"  Fate,"  he  murmured  between  his  teeth,  "  has  driven  me 
here.  It  was  meet  that  the  murderer  should  be  confronted  by 
his  victim." 

The  men,  when  they  had  surmounted  the  steep  river  bank, 
tired  with  the  weight,  put  down  the  corpse  near  where  Arm 
strong  stood.  He  walked  up  to  it,  and  gazed  upon  the  face. 
The  men,  solemnized  by  the  mournful  task,  and  respecting 
the  feelings  of  Armstrong,  whom  they  all  knew,  preserved 
silence. 

There  was  no  expression  of  pain  upon  the  features.  They 
wore  the  calm,  impassive  look  of  marble.  The  eyes  and  mouth 
were  wide  open— efforts  to  close  them  had  been  in  vain— but, 
there  was  no  speculation  in  the  former,  and  the  soul  played  no 
more  around  the  latter.  The  long  brown  hair,  from  which  the 
water  dripped,  hung  in  disorder  over  the  forehead  and  down  the 
neck.  Armstrong  knelt  on  the  withered  leaves,  by  the  side  of 
the  corpse,  and  parted  the  hair  with  his  fingers. 

"  The  agony,"  he  said,  as  if  addressing  the  drowned  man,  "  is 
over.  The  curtain  is  lifted.  The  terrible  secret  is  disclosed. 
You  have  heard  the  summons  we  must,  nil  honr  You  have  trod 


THE     LOST     H  U  N  T  K  K  .  2t3 

the  path  we  must  all  tread.  You  know  your  doom.  Poor 
fellow  !  how  gladly  would  I  give  my  life  for  yours." 

The  bystanders  were  moved.  Thus  to  behold  the  rich  and 
prosperous  Mr.  Armstrong,  whose  reserve  was  mistaken  by 
some  for  haughtiness,  kneeling  on  the  ground  and  lamenting  over 
the  obscure  fisherman,  was  something  thej  had  not  expected. 

"  Sill  was  a  good  fellow  and  a  ginerous,"  said  Tom  Gladding, 
wiping  away  a  tear,  with  the  rough  sleeve  of  his  coat. 

"  He  was  a  clever  fellow,  was  Sill,"  added  another. 

"  Pve  known  him  more  than  once,'7  said  Tom,  "  give  half  his 
fish  away  to  a  poor  family.  Josiah  tried  to  make  everybody 
comfortable." 

"  When  I  was  sick,  a  year  ago,"  said  one  of  the  men,  "  and 
the  neighbors  thought  I  was  going  to  die,  Josiah  set  up  many 
a  night  with  me,  when  he  had  to  work  all  the  next  day  for  his 
wife  and  children.  I  had  no  notion,  then,  he'd  have  to  go 
afore  me." 

"  It's  true  what  the  primer  says,"  said  another — 

"  Xerxes  the  great  must  die, 
And  so  must  you  and  I." 

"  It  don't  need  the  primer  or  Xerxes  either  to  tell  us  that," 
said  Tom.  "  Now,  it  looks  kind  o'  hard  to  have  a  young  man 
like  Josiah  go  ;  but,  seeing  as  how  he  must  die,  sometime  or 
other,  I  guess  it  don't  much  consarn  him  whether  it's  to-day  or 
to-morrow,  when  you  think  of  etarnity.  Howsoever,  it's  no  use 
standing  here  sniveling  ;  so,  let's  get  on.  Miss  Sill  will  be  glad 
the  body's  found,  though  it  will  'most  kill  her  to  see  it." 

Thereupon,  Tom  and  his  friends  took  up  the  corpse,  and  pur 
sued  their  way  to  the  village. 

Armstrong  stood  still,  and  looked  after  them  till  they  were 
out  of  sight.  He  then  turned,  descended  the  bank,  and  sat 
upon  a  rock  on  the  edge  of  the  water. 

12* 


T  II  E      L  0  S  T      H  U  X  T  E  R  . 

He  reviewed  the  events  of  the  day  before  the  yesterday. 
He  had  repeatedly  endeavored  to  divert  his  mind  from  such 
thoughts  ;  but,  in  spite  of  his  wishes,  they  would  force  them 
selves  back.  Finding-  all  resistance  vain,  he  had,  finally,  aban 
doned  himself  to  their  control. 

They  passed  confusedly  through  his  mind.  It  was  difficult  to 
arrange  them  in  the  order  of  their  succession.  He  began  to  be 
uncertain  whether  his  visit  to  Holden  was  made  before  or  after 
the  drowning  of  Sill.  He  tried  to  recollect  the  purpose  of  his 
visit  to  the  Solitary,  but  could  fix  upon  nothing  definite.  He 
seemed  to  remember  that  he  had  made  a  confession  of  some 
sort,  and  that  Holden  had  charged  him  with  the  murder  of  his 
brother  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  commended  him  for  removing 
George  from  the  evil  to  come.  His  thoughts  then  reverted  to 
the  upsetting  of  the  boat.  He  knew  that  Sill  had  saved  his 
life  ;  but  why,  when  in  safety  on  the  boat,  had  he  left  it  ?  He 
had  a  notion  of  some  conversation  between  them,  and  strove, 
till  his  brain  burned,  to  remember  it.  Had  he  not  urged  the 
unfortunate  man  to  swim  ashore  ?  Was  it  not  most  probable  he 
had  done  so  ?  Was  not  that  most  consistent  with  his  usual 
treatment  of  others  ?  Was  not  that  the  means  adopted  by  the 
stern  angel  of  fate,  to  accomplish  the  decree  ? 

Such  was  the  nature  of  the  thoughts  of  the  unhappy  Arm 
strong.  Do  what  he  might,  he  could  not  exclude  them.  They 
would  give  place  to  no  others.  They  were  at  home.  They 
had  a  right  to  rule  and  to  torture.  They  were  a  foretaste  of 
a  never-ending  punishment.  His  will  did  not  consent  ;  but,  a 
mightier  will  commanded,  and  the  weaker  must  obey.  The 
sport  of  an  irresistible  necessity — with  no  power  of  choice — the 
blind,  unwilling  instrument  of  a  controlling  force,  he  was,  not 
withstanding,  justly  chargeable  with  every  misfortune,  and,  like 
a  malefactor,  must  endure  the  consequences. 

Long  he  sat  thus  absorbed  in  these  wretched  reflections.     He 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  2T5 

stared  upon  the  water,  but  saw  nothing :  the  tide  rose  and  wet 
his  feet,  but  he  felt  it  not  ;  the  wind  blew  chill,  but  he  was  not 
cold.  He  got  up  at  last  from  his  seat,  and  was  recalled  to  life. 
He  felt  stiff  from  having  been  in  one  posture  so  long.  He  took 
out  his  watch,  and  found  it  was  twelve  o'clock.  He  looked  at 
the  sun,  and  perceived  it  did  not  contradict  the  watch,  and 
turned  his  steps  homeward. 

The  crow  from  the  topmost  bough  of  a  withered  tree  eyed 
him  as  he  passed  along  quite  near,  and  croaked  once,  but  did  not 
leave  his  perch.  Armstrong  heard  him  not.  Nor  did  he  heed 
the  blue-bird  singing  in  the  noonday  sun  to  the  arbutus  blos 
soms  crushed  by  his  unwitting  feet,  or  notice  the  petulant 
squirrel  flinging  down  the  shells  of  his  nuts,  as  if  in  mockery  at 
the  passing  stranger.  He  was  met  by  Primus  in  the  village 
street,  who  took  off  his  cap,  but  to  the  salutation  of  the  negro 
he  paid  no  regard.  The  General  stopped  as  he  passed,  and 
turned  round,  with  a  sorrowful  surprise,  to  look  after  him, 
and  shook  his  head.  It  was  the  first  time  Mr.  Armstrong  had 
passed  him  without  notice  and  a  kind  word.  The  negroes  are 
very  superstitious,  and  great  observers  of  signs.  He  remarked 
that  Mr.  Armstrong's  hat  was  pulled  over  his  eyes,  in  the  same 
manner  he  wore  it  at  the  funeral  of  his  wife,  and  augured  some 
impending  calamity. 

Mr.  Armstrong  entered  his  house,  and  threw  himself  into  a 
seat,  but  he  sat  only  a  moment.  Something  seemed  to  be 
wanting.  A  restless  impatience  possessed  him.  He  took  up 
the  tongs  and  begun  to  alter  the  disposition  of  the  sticks  of 
wood.  He  could  not  suit  himself,  and  finally  abandoned  the 
fire  to  itself,  after  having  filled  the  room  with  smoke.  He  went 
to  the  bookcase,  and  took  down  a  book,  and  commenced  read 
ing.  But  presently  his  eyes  wandered  off,  and  fastened  them 
selves  on  the  rug.  He  threw  down  the  book,  and  rung  the  bell 
violently.  Felix  instantly  answered  the  summons. 


276  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  very  negligent  in  attending  to  the 
bell  this  morning,"  said  he.  "  It  is  unpleasant  to  be  obliged  to 
ring  so  often." 

"  You  ring  only  once,  Mr.  Armstrong,"  said  Felix,  opening 
his  eyes  wide  with  astonishment.  "  I  in  the  kitchen  at  the 
time,  and  come  immediumtly.  The  tongue  still  jingle." 

"You  may  well  say  your  tongue  jingles,"  said  Mr.  Arm 
strong,  sharply.  "  Let  me  trouble  you  not  to  contradict  me. 
Where  is  Miss  Faith  ?" 

"  Miss  Faith  went  out  an  hour  ago.  I  guess  she  is  calling  on 
some  ladies." 

"  Go,  and  find  her,  and  request  her  to  come  home." 

Felix  retreated  hastily  into  the  kitchen,  and  seized  his  cap. 
But  before  going  out  he  thought  it  necessary  to  speak  to 
Rosa. 

"  O,  Rosa  !"  he  said,  "  take  care  o'  the  boss  while  I'm  gone. 
Something  dreadful  is  happened  to  him,  and  I'm  'fraid  of  the 
consequence.  If  you  hear  the  bell,  Rosa,  run  for  your  life." 

"  How  can  I  leave  the  dinner  ?  It  all  spoil,  Felix,"  said 
Rosa.  "  I  send  Katy." 

"  Never  mind  two  dinners,"  cried  Felix.  "  Better  burn  the 
roast  beef  than  make  him  feel  worse.  I  never  know  him  cross 
afore." 

Felix  was  not  obliged  to  go  far.  He  had  hardly  got  outside 
of  the  gate,  when  he  saw  his  young  mistress  coming  down  the 
street.  Walking  rapidly,  he  soon  met  her,  and  communicated 
his  errand.  Faith  quickened  her  steps,  and  in  a  few  moments 
stood  by  the  side  of  her  father. 

She  found  him  contemplating  the  sprigs  of  arbutus  he  had 
picked  for  her.  The  sight  and  scent  of  the  lovely  flowers  had 
carried  him  back  to  the  moment  when  he  plucked  them,  and 
restored,  in  a  measure,  the  tone  of  mind  that  prevailed  then. 
It  was,  therefore,  with  his  usual  sweetness  he  addressed  her, 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  271 

though  there  was  something  in  his  voice  that  made  the  words 
drop  like  so  many  tears  upon  her  heart. 

"I  have  brought  you  some  flowers,  my  darling,"  he  said. 
"  They  are  the  first  nurslings  of  spring.  Beautiful  things  ! 
looking  up  all  night  and  day,  with  their  starry  eyes,  to  heaven,' 
and  drinking  the  dew  of  God's  grace.  Happy  things  !  they 
know  no  sin  nor  sorrow,  and  are  remembered  only  for  their  per 
fume  and  beauty.  Take  them,  Faith.  Sweets  to  the  sweet. 
Like  these  flowers,  your  soul  exhales  an  atmosphere  of  fragrance, 
and  they  belong  to  you." 

The  mutations  of  Mr.  Armstrong's  mind  were  like  the 
changes  of  an  April  day.  The  softer  mood  was  now  prevailing, 
and  as  Faith  kissed  the  flowers,  before  she  put  them  in  her 
bosom,  she  felt  less  unhappy  than  in  the  morning. 


278  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER   XXYI. 

Whose  part  in  all  the  pomp  that  fills, 
The  circuit  of  the  summer  hills. 

Is  that  his  grave  is  green. 
And  deeply  would  their  hearts  rejoice, 

To  hear  again  his  living  voice. 

BRYANT. 

THE  funeral,  with  the  usual  celerity  with  which  such  things 
are  done  in  our  country,  was  to  take  place  on  the  next  day.  Too 
often  the  haste  appears  indecent,  and  it  may  be  that  in  some 
instances  the  body  has  been  buried  before  life  deserted  it.  It 
would  seem  that  the  family  felt  constrained  by  the  presence  of 
the  corpse,  and  compelled  to  exercise  an  irksome  self-control, 
and,  therefore,  desired  to  hurry  it  under  ground,  as  if  it  would 
be  less  likely  there  to  know  how  soon  it  was  forgotten. 

But  in  the  present  case  there  was  no  reason  why  the  body 
should  be  longer  kept.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that  life  was 
extinct.  It  had  lain  too  long  in  the  water  to  admit  a  ray  of 
hope  to  the  contrary.  The  sooner  it  was  placed  in  its  final 
earthly  home  the  better  for  poor  Jane  Sill,  the  widow.  Her 
grief  would  the  sooner  be  mitigated,  by  withdrawing  her 
thoughts  from  the  dead  to  fix  them  on  the  necessity  of  provid 
ing  for  the  living.  Until  the  burial  the  sympathizing  neighbors 
took  updh  themselves  to  perform  the  usual  work  of  the  house 
hold,  such  as  cooking  the  necessary  food,  &c.,  and  one  or 
another  came  in  at  times  to  look  after  the  children,  to  see  that 
nothing  was  neglected  for  their  comfort,  and  to  console  the  lone 
woman,  in  her  affliction.  But  this  could  not  last  long.  It  was 


THE      LOST      HUNTER 


279 


better  it  should  not,  but  that  things  should,  as  quickly  as  possi 
ble,  resume  their  usual  and  natural  course. 

When  the  hour  for  the  ceremony  arrived,  Mr.  Armstrong  sent 
round  his  carriage  to  convey  the  mourning  family  in  the  melan 
choly  procession,  while  he  and  Faith,  as  the  distance  was  short, 
proceeded  on  foot  to  the  house.     It  was  situated  on  a  sandy 
beach,  near  the  Wootuppocut,  and  a  considerable  company  had 
collected  together  before   their  arrival.     Poor   Josiah's  gene 
rosity  and  good-nature  had  made  him  a  general  favorite,  and  his 
acquaintances  had  pretty  generally  turned  out  to  render  to  him 
the  last  testimony  of  affection  it  would  ever  be  in  their  power  to 
pay.     The  house  was  too  small  to  hold  all  present,  so  that 
besides  the  relations,  very  few  except  females  were  admitted. 
Faith  entered,  but  her  father,  though  courteously  invited  in,  and  in 
consequence  of  his  connection  with  the  accident  that  caused  the 
death,  considered  in  some  wise  a  mourner,  preferred  to  remain 
on  the  outside.     Meanwhile,  during  the   preparations   in   the 
house,  groups  without  were  scattered  r.ound,  engaged,  in  low 
voices,  in  various  conversation.     In  some,  expressions  of  condo 
lence  and  pity  were  let  fall  for  the  condition  of  the  widow  and 
her   family  ;    others   descanted   on   the   good   qualities  of  the 
deceased  ;   others   debated  on  what   might  be  the  feelings  of 
Armstrong,   and  wondered  what   he   would   give   the   widow. 
They  were  all  acquainted  with  his  generosity,  and  doubted  not 
of  his  desire  to  repair,  so  far  as  he  was  able,  the  misfortune  with 
which  the  more  ignorant  would  insist  upon  connecting  him  as  in 
some  sort,  a  cause.     For  this  reason,  some  jof  them  stole  sly 
glances,  from    time   to   time,  at   his    face,  wishing   not   to   be 
observed,  as  if  they  expected  to   read   therein  his   purposes. 
But  Armstrong',  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  ground,  and  absorbed 
in  his  own   reflections,   was   unconscious  of   the  attention   he 
attracted.     So  lost  was  he,  indeed,  in  his  own  thoughts,  as  not 
to  observe  many  of  the  nods  and  greetings  directed  to  him. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


Presently  low  tones,  as  of  one  speaking,  were  heard  issuing 
from  the  house,  and  those  standing  outside  gathered  round  the 
open  door,  to  listen  to  the  prayer  of  the  minister.     It  seems  to 
be  taken  for  granted  that  on  such   occasions  the  prayer  must 
occupy  some  considerable  time,  whether  because  a   short  one 
would  be  irreverent  to  the  Being  to  whom  it  is  addressed,  or 
disrespectful  to  the  sorrowing  friends,  or  because  the  mind  can 
not  sooner  be  impressed  with  due  solemnity.     Hence  it  follows 
that  as  these  prayers  are  extempore,  and  the  abilities  and  taste 
of  those  who  offer  them  of  different  degrees,  they  are  of  various 
shades  of  merit.     Seldom  is  one  made  in  which  the  canons  of 
good  taste  are  not  violated,  and  some  are  not  compelled  to 
smile  who  ought  to  weep.     The  reverend  gentleman  who  con 
ducted  the  services,  was  not  insensible  to  what  was  expected 
from  him,  and  determined  "  to  improve  "  the  mournful  event  to 
the  benefit  of  the  living.     After  alluding  to  the  gratitude  his 
.  hearers  ought  to  feel  at  not  being  thus  hurried,  like  poor  Sill, 
without  time  for  preparation,  before  the  bar  of  Judgment,  who,' 
however,  he  hoped,  was  prepared,  and  in  order  to  heighten  the 
feeling  of  thankfulness,  contrasting  the  light  and  liberty  of  life 
with  the  darkness  of  the  grave  (as  if  the  spirit  were  confined 
there),  he  ran  through  the  usual  common  places,  speaking  with 
an  assured  conviction,  as  if  the  country  beyond  the  grave  were 
as  familiar  to  him  as  the  streets  of  the  town.     With  a  tedious 
particularity  he  then  entreated  the  divine  blessing  upon  the 
members  of  the  bereaved  family,  mentioning  them  by  name, 
beginning  with  the  widow,  to  whom  succeeded  the  children,  two 
boys,  one  of  four,  and  the  other  of  two  years  of  age,  followed 
by  fathers,  and  mothers,  and  brothers,  and  sisters  to  an  indefi 
nite  extent,  until  the  compliment  was  duly  paid  to  all  who  were 
supposed  to  have  any  claim  to  it.     The  prayer  was  closed  very 
much  as  it  began,  with  a  reference  to  the  suddenness  of  the 
death,  which  was  treated  as  a  warning  sent  for  their  benefit, 


THE     LOST      HUNTER.  281 

and  a  hope  that  it  might  be  laid  to  heart,  and  induce  sinners  to 
fly  from  the  wrath  to  come.  The  usual  time  being  now  con 
sumed,  the  minister  who  had  labored  hard,  and  not  without  sun 
dry  hesitations  and  coughings  to  accomplish  his  task,  brought  it 
to  a  conclusion,  and  announced  an  appropriate  hymn.  There 
was  something  sadly  sweet  and  touching  in  the  homely  words 
and  simple  tune,  sung  in  low  and  suppressed  tones,  as  if  they 
were  afraid  of  disturbing  the  slumbers  of  the  dead. 

Upon  the  conclusion  of  the  hymn,  the  person  who  acted  as 
master  of  the  ceremonies  went  to  the  door,  and,  addressing  those 
gathered  round,  said  that  all  who  desired  might  now  have  an 
opportunity  to  see  the  corpse.  Several  accepted  the  invitation, 
and  among  others,  Mr.  Armstrong. 

The  coffin  was  placed  upon  a  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 
with  a  part  of  the  lid  turned  back  on  hinges,  so  as  to  leave  the 
face  exposed.  The  former  friends  and  acquaintances  of  the 
dead  man,  giving  place  and  succeeding  to  one  another,  came, 
looked,  and  passed  out  again,  moving  lightly  on  tip-toe  solemn 
ized  and  subdued  by  the  awful  mystery  of  death.  As  they  came 
in  and  left  the  house,  they  could  see  through  an  open  door  in  an 
adjoining  room  the  weeping  widow  in  full  mourning,  with  her 
little  boys  on  either  side,  and  the  relations  seated  round  in 
chairs. 

All  having  gazed  upon  the  corpse  who  wished,  preparations 
now  commenced  for  screwing  down  the  lid  of  the  coffin.  The 
sobs  and  sounds  of  grief  which  had  proceeded  from  the  room 
where  the  mourners  were  collected,  and  which  had  been,  as  by 
an  effort,  suppressed  during  the  prayer  and  hymn,  now  broke 
forth  afresh. 

"0,  do  not  hinder  me,"  poor  Mrs.  Sill  was  heard  to  say; 
"it's  the  only  chance  I  shall  have  in  this  world." 

"  I  guess  you'd  better  not,"  said  a  voice,  trying  to  dissuade 
her,  "  It's  no  use  ;  and,  then,  before  all  them  strangers." 


282  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

"  I  will  see  Josiah,"  she  exclaimed,  rising  from  her  seat,  and 
putting  aside  the  well-meaning  hand  that  strove  to  detain  her. 
"  Who  has  a  better  right  to  take  the  last  look  than  me  ?" 

With  these  words,  her  crape  veil  thrown  in  disorder  back 
upon  her  shoulders,  her  eyes  red  and  swollen  with  crying,  and 
tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks,  she  advanced  towards  the 
body,  all  respectfully  making  room  for  her  as  she  approached. 

We  are  not  a  very  demonstrative  people.  The  inhabitants  of 
New  England  are  taught,  from  an  early  age,  the  lesson  of  self- 
control.  They  do  not  wear  in  their  bosoms  windows  into  which 
any  eyes  may  look.  It  is  considered  unmanly  for  men  to  exhibit 
excessive  feeling,  and  perhaps  the  sentiment  has  an  influence 
even  on  the  softer  sex.  The  conduct  of  Mrs.  Sill  was  unusual, 
and  excited  surprise  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  stem  strong  passion 
and  it  had  its  way. 

She  moved  quickly  up  to  the  table,  and  threw  her  arms 
around  the  coffin,  resting  her  cheek  on  that  of  her  husband, 
while  the  hot  tears  ran  in  large  drops  down  its  marble  surface. 
One  who  thought  he  had  a  right  to  interfere, -whispered  in  her 
ear,  and  took  hold  of  an  arm  to  draw  her  away,  but  she  turned 
fiercely  upon  him. 

"Who  are  you,"  she  said,  "to  separate  me  from  my  husband  ? 
Go — I  will  keep  him  as  long  as  I  please.'"' 

The  person,  seeing  her  determination,  desisted ;  and  all  looked 
on  in  mournful  silence. 

"  O,  Josiah,"  she  sobbed,  "  who'd  have  thought  it  !  The  best, 
the  kindest  husband  a  woman  ever  had.  0  !  how  sorry  I  am 
for  every  hard  word  I  ever  spoke  to  you.  And  you  so  good — 
never  to  find  fault  when  1  scolded.  I  was  wicked— and  yet  all 
the  time  I  loved  you  so.  Did  you  know  it,  Josiah  ?  If  you 
were  back  again,  how  different  I  would  treat  you  !  The  fire 
should  always  be  burning  bright,  and  the  hearth  clean,  when 
you  came  back  cold  from  fishing,  and  you  should  never,  never 


Til  E 


HUNT  E  R  .  283 


ask  me  a  second  time  for  anything.  But  you  don't  hear  me. 
What's  the  use  of  crying  and  lamenting  ?  Here,"  she  said, 
raising  herself  up,  and  addressing  those  next  her,  "  take  him, 
and  put  him  in  his  grave." 

She  staggered  and  fainted,  and  would  have  fallen,  had  she  not 
been  caught  in  the  arms  of  sympathizing  friends,  who  removed 
her  into  the  adjoining  chamber,  and  applied  the  usual  restora 
tives.  This  caused  some  little  delay,  but,  after  a  time,  the  per 
son  who  had  assumed  upon  himself  the  arrangements  of  the 
funeral,  entered,  preceding  the  four  bearers,  whose  hats  he  took 
into  his  own  hands,  to  restore  them  to  the  owners  when  the 
coffin  should  be  placed  in  the  hearse — a  plain  black  wagon,  with 
black  cloth  curtains— waiting  at  the  door.  The  coffin  was  taken 
up  by  them,  and  deposited  accordingly ;  after  which,  they  took 
their  places  in  front  of  the  hearse,  while  the  four  pall-bearers 
ranged  themselves  on  each  side.  At  a  signal  from  the  director 
of  the  ceremony,  the  whole  moved  forward,  leaving  space  for 
the  carriages  to  approach  the  door.  Mr.  Armstrong's  carriage 
was  driven  up,  and  the  widow  and  children,  with  two  or  three 
females,  were  assisted  in.  Then  followed  a  few  other  vehicles, 
with  the  nearest  relatives,  after  whom  came  others,  as  they 
pleased  to  join.  A  large  number  of  persons  had  previously 
formed  themselves  into  a  procession  before  the  hearse,  headed 
by  the  minister,  who  would  have  been  accompanied  by  a  physi 
cian,  had  one  assisted  in  making  poor  Sill's  passage  to  the  other 
world  easier. 

The  mournful  cortege  wound  slowly  up  a  hill  to  the  burying- 
ground — a  piece  of  broken  land  on  the  top.  At  the  time  of 
which  we  write,  the  resting-place  of  the  departed  of  Hillsdale 
presented  a  different  appearance  from  what  it  does  now.  Wild, 
neglected,  overgrown  with  briers,  it  looked  repulsive  to  the 
living,  and  unworthy  of  the  dead.  The  tender  sentiment  which 
associates  beauty  with  the  memory  of  our  friends,  and  loves  to 


284  THE      LOST      H  U  X  T  K  R  . 

plant  the  evergreen  and  rose  around  their  graves,  seemed  then 
not  to  have  touched  the  bosoms  of  our  people.  A  pleasing 
change  has  succeeded.  The  briars  have  been  removed,  trees 
planted,  and  when  necessary  to  be  laid  out,  new  burial-ground 
spots  have  been  selected  remarkable  for  attractiveness  and  sus 
ceptibility  of  improvement.  The  brook  has  been  led  in  and  con 
ducted  in  tortuous  paths,  as  if  to  lull  with  a  soft  hymn  the  tired 
sleepers,  and  then  expanded  into  a  fairy  lake,  around  which  the 
weeping  willow  lets  fall  its  graceful  pendants.  The  white  pine, 
the  various  species  of  firs,  the  rhododendron,  mixed  with  the 
maple,  the  elm,  and  the  tulip  tree,  have  found  their  way  into 
the  sacred  enclosure.  The  reproach  of  Puritanic  insensibility 
is  wiped  out.  Europe  may  boast  of  prouder  monuments,  but  she 
has  no  burial-places  so  beautiful  as  some  of  ours.  Pere  la  Chaise 
is  splendid  in  marble  and  iron,  but  the  loveliness  of  nature  is 
wanting.  Sweet  Auburn,  and  Greenwood,  and  Laurel  Hill  are 
peerless  in  their  mournful  charms. 

The  coffin  was  lowered  into  the  grave  in  silence.  No  solemn 
voice  pronounced  the  farewell  "  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust.'7 
The  ceremonies  were  concluded.  The  minister  took  off  his  hat, 
and  addressing  the  bystanders,  some  of  whom,  respectfully 
imitating  his  example,  raised  tn"e  coverings  from  their  heads, 
thanked  them  in  the  name  of  the  afflicted  family  for  this  last 
tribute  of  regard.  The  procession  was  formed  again,  and  slowly 
returned  to  the  house,  leaving  the  grave-digger  to  shovel  in  the 
gravel  and  complete  his  task. 

As  l^lr.  Armstrong  and  Faith  walked  home  together,  but  few 
words  were  exchanged  between  them.  Each  was  absorbed  in 
reflection  upon  the  scene  just  witnessed.  In  Faith's  mind  it  was 
solemn,  but  devoid  of  gloom.  With  the  hopefulness  of  health 
and  youth,  gleams  of  sunshine  played  over  the  grave.  She 
looked  beyond,  and  hoped  and  trusted. 

But  with  her  father  it  was  different.     Had  it  not  been  for 


THE      LOS  T      II  I"  N  T  K  il  .  285 

him  Sill  might  have  been  alive  and  well.  He  had  made  the 
wife  a  widow  and  her  children  orphans.  He  had  introduced 
weeping  and  wailing  into  a  happy  home.  But  this  was  a  slight 
calamity,  and  hardly  worthy  of  a  thought  in  comparison  with 
another.  The  words  of  the  minister,  that  the  victim  had  been 
hurried  to  his  sentence  without  time  for  preparation  recurred 
with  a  feeling  of  horror.  It  was  he  through  whose  instrumen 
tality  Sill  had  been  thrust  into  tormenting  but  undestroying 
flames.  Better  that  he  had  never  been  born.  Better  that  he 
had  been  strangled  in  the  hour  of  his  birth. 

With  thoughts  like  these,  this  unhappy  man,  whose  heart 
was  the  seat  of  all  the  virtues,  tormented  himself.  It  seemed 
sometimes  strange  that  people  did  not  point  their  fingers  at 
him  :  that  he  was  not  arrested  for  the  murder  :  that  he  was 
permitted  to  walk  abroad  in  the  sunshine.  His  mind,  unknown 
to  those  about  him,  unknown  to  himself,  was  hovering  on  the 
confines  of  insanity.  Only  a  spark,  perhaps,  was  necessary  to 
light  a  conflagration.  Alas  !  that  one  so  good,  so  noble,  should 
be  a  victim  of  destiny.  But  we  forbear  to  intrude  further  into 
reflections  alike  miserable  and  insane, 

Mr.  Armstrong  felt  more  composed  the  next  day,  and  in  the 
afternoon,  accompanied  by  Faith,  went  to  the  dwelling  of  the 
widow.  They  found  her  engaged  in  ordinary  family  affairs.  The 
duties  to  the  living  must  be  respected.  To  neither  rich  nor  poor 
does  sorrow  furnish  an  excuse  for  their  neglect.  Let  the  mind  find 
something  to  occupy  it,  the  hand  something  to  do.  Thus  do  we 
become  sooner  reconciled  to  those  dispensations  of  Providence  at 
which  our  weakness,  and  ignorance,  and  presumption  rebel. 

The  poor  woman  received  them  kindly,  and  offered  chairs. 
Faith  took  into  her  lap  the  younger  child  from  the  floor  on 
which  it  was  sitting,  gnawing  a  crust  of  brown  bread,  and  began 
to  talk  to  him.  The  round  eyes  of  the  boy  expressed  his  aston 
ishment,  but  as  he  looked  into  the  loving  face  and  heard  more  of 


286  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

the  sweet  voice,  the  alarm  he  at  first  felt  at  the  approach  of  the 
stranger  subsided,  and  he  smiled  with  the  confiding  innocence 
which  children  return  to  the  caresses  of  those  who  are  fond  of 
them. 

"  Jimmy  doesn't  know  what  a  loss  he's  had,"  said  Mrs.  Sill. 

"  Jimmy  will  grow  up  to  take  care  of  his  mother  bye  and  bye, 
and  repay  her  for  some  of  her  trouble,  won't  he  ? ;;  said  Faith, 
addressing  the  boy. 

"  0,  Josiah  and  Jimmy  are  my  only  comfort,"  said  the  widow 
— now  that  he's  gone.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without 
them,  I'm  sure." 

Mr.  Armstrong  had  called  the  elder  boy,  Josiah,  to  his  side, 
and  the  little  fellow  had  quickly  become  familiar  enough  to  play 
with  his  gold  watch-chain.  Seeing  it  pleased  the  child,  he  took 
the  watch  and  held  it  to  his  ear,  at  which  the  countenance  of 
the  boy  became  radiant  with  delight.  "  0,  Jimmy,"  he  cried, 
11  it  talks." 

Mr.  Armstrong  released  the  watch  into  the  hands  of  Josiah, 
who  ran  with  it  to  his  brother. 

"He  will  drop  it,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sill,  starting  forward, 
taking  the  watch  from  the  hands  of  the  disappointed  boy,  and 
offering  it  to  Mr.  Armstrong. 

"Keep  it"  he  said,  "for  Josiah,  to  associate  me,  when  he 
grows  up,  with  his  father's  death." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  give  away  your  gold  watch  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Sill,  still  holding  it  out  towards  him. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Sill,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong,  "  I  intended  it  for  him: 
I  would  give  him  all  I  have  if  I  could  thereby  restore  his  father 
to  life." 

This  observation  renewed  in  full  force  the  sorrow  of  the  poor 
woman.  She  sank  back  into  a  chair,  and  covering  her  face  with 
her  apron,  sobbed  and  wept  bitterly. 

Faith  looked  at  her  father  with  an  expression  which  seemed 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


281 


to  say— do  not  refer  to  the  cause  of  her  grief.  Armstrong 
understood  the  appeal,  but  he  had  that  in  his  mind  which  was 
unknown  co  his  daughter,  and  after  a  pause  he  proceeded. 

"  I  have  more  property  than  I  deserve,  and  what  better  use 
can  I  put  it  to  than  give  it  to  the  deserving  ?  You  will  find  in 
that,"  he  continued,  handing  a  paper  to  the  widow,  "  what  will 
entitle  you  to  a  little  income  during  your  life.  I  hope  it  will 
enable  you  to  take  better*  care  of  your  children." 

Mrs.  Sill  took  the  paper  mechanically,  and  gazed  upon  with 
out  opening  it  or  imagining  the  extent  of  the  gift.  She  kept 
turning  it  round  and  round  in  her  fingers,  as  if  not  knowing  what 
to  do  with  it.. 

"Everybody  knows  you're  a  kind  man,  and  as  generous  as 
you're  rich,  Mr.  Armstrong  ;"  at  last  she  said,  "  But  I  guess  I 
shant  want  anything  long  in  this  world." 

"I  hope  you  may  live  long  yet,"  «>'•!  Mr.  Armstrong,  "for 
the  sake  of  the  little  boys." 

This  allusion  recalled  her  more  to  herself,  and  without  looking 
at  the  paper  she  put  it  into  her  bosom.  "  I'm  sure  I  thank  you 
with  all  my  heart,  and  shall  always  try  to  do  my  duty  by  them," 
she  said. 

Here  Mr.  Armstrong  rose,  and  Faith,  putting  down  the  child, 
that  seemed  loth  to  leave  her,  spoke  in  a  low  tone  some  parting 
words  of  consolation, 

"  I'm  sure  you're  very  good  ;  I'm  sure  I'm  very  much  obleeged 
to  you,"  was  all  Mrs.  Sill  could  say. 

On  their  way  home  Faith  spoke  of  the  promising  appearance 
of  the  children,  and  of  what  the  hopes  of  the  mother  must  be  on 
their  account. 

"It  is  true  they  are  all  that  are  left  to  her,"  said  Mr.  Arm 
strong,  "  and  what  hopes  she  has  of  earthly  happiness  must  be 
built  on  them.  But  who  can  look  into  to-morrow  ?  A  few  days 
ago,  never  dreaming  of  misfortune,  she  exulted  in  the  enjoyment 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

of  her  husband  and  little  boys.  The  first  is  taken  away,  and 
none  know  how  soon  the  latter  may  be.  So  joys  and  sorrows 
are  mingled  together.  At  this  moment  she  is  more  miserable 
for  having  been  happy,  and  so  great  is  the  misery,  it  outweighs 
all  the  happiness  of  former  years.  Such  is  the  nature  of  pain 
and  pleasure.  A  pang  of  the  former,  an  instant's  acute  agony, 
may  be  equivalent  to  hours  of  what  is  called  enjoyment  We 
are  so  made.  We  may  hope  for  happiness  :  we  are  certain  of 
sorrow.  We  must  seek  after  the  one  :  the  other  is  sure  to  find 
us.  When  I  look  round,  what  evidences  of  wretchedness  do  I 
see  I  Alas,  it  is  indeed  a  fallen  world,  and  the  ground  is  cursed 
for  man's  sake." 

"  You  take  a  gloomy  view,  father,"  said  Faith.  "  Look 
beyond.  Are  we  not  promised  a  happier  time  when  the  bliss  of 
Eden  shall  be  renewed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  the  time  will  come.  Not  only  prophets  and  apos 
tles  have  had  it  revealed  to  them,  but  grand  souls  among  the 
heathen  have  dimly  descryed  its  dawning  from  afar.  But  what 
unimaginable  scenes  of  horror  must  first  be  ?  What  doleful 
misereres  must  first  ascend  to  cloud  the  brightness  of  the  heavens 
and  dim  the  joy  of  the  blest  !  Long,  long  before  then,  your  and 
my  remembrance,  Faith,  will  have  perished  from  the  earth.  You 

will  be  then  a  seraph,  and  I .  If  there  be  ever  an  interval 

of  pain,  it  will  be  when  I  think  of  your  blessedness,  and  you,  if 
angels  sometimes  weep,  will  drop  a  tear  to  the  memory  of  your 
father,  and  it  shall  cool  his  torment." 

What  could  the  grieved  and  alarmed  daughter  say?  She 
spoke  in  gentle  and  loving  tones.  She  combated  by  every  pos 
sible  argument  these  miserable  fancies.  She  entreated  him  for 
her  sake  as  well  as  his  own,  to  cast  them  off.  He  listened  to  her 
without  impatience,  and  as  if  he  loved  to  hear  the  sound  of  her 
voice.  But  he  shook  his  head  with  a  mournful  sadness,  and  his 
melancholy  remained.  As  may  well  be  supposed,  the  dark  cloud 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  289 

that  had  settled  down  upon  his  mind  was  not  thus  to  be  dissi 
pated.  Faith,  though  troubled,  did  not  despair.  She  trusted 
the  impression  of  the  late  calamity,  to  which  she  attributed  much 
of  his  unhappiness,  would  in  time  wear  off.  Meanwhile,  she  com 
mended  him  to  the  kind  protection  of  that  Gracious  Being  who 
is  loving  to  all  his  works.  A 


13 


290  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

I  cannot  think  of  sorrow  now  :  and  doubt 
If  e'er  I  felt  it— 'tis  so  dazzled  from 
My  memory  by  this  oblivious  transport. 

BYRON 

"HERE  come  that  strange  old  man/7  said  Felix,  the  next 
morning,  looking  out  of  the  kitchen  window,  which  commanded 
a  view  of  the  road.     "  I  do  believe  he's  bewitched  the  boss." 
v  Rosa,  to  whom  the  remark  was  addressed,  ran  to  the  window, 
and  saw  the  Recluse  coming  up  the  street. 

"  I'm  'stonished,"  she  said,  "that  Mr.  Armstrong  and  Miss 
Faith  give  so  much  encouragement  to  these  low  pussons.  They 
always  take  so  much  liberty." 

"  Give  'em  an  inch  and  they  take  two  feet,"  said  Felix.  "  I 
wish  his  two  feet  take  him  away  from  this  house  for  the  last 
time,"  he  added,  laughing. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,  you  so  'musing  Felix,"  said  Rosa.  "There  is 
something  too  very  genteel  in  your  laugh." 

"You  do  me  proud,  sweet  Rosa,"  answered  Felii,  bowing 
with  his  hand  upon  his  breast. 

Holden  was  no  favorite  of  the  black.  The  well-dressed  and 
well-fed  servant  of  a  wealthy  family,  with  the  feeling  common  to 
all  who  judge  from  outside  appearances,  had  at  first  been  dis 
posed  to  look  down  upon  the  coarsely-dressed  anchorite,  who 
supported  himself  by  so  mean  a  labor  as  the  manufacture  of 
baskets,  and  to  consider  him  as  little  better  than  a  beggar-man. 
No  sooner,  however,  did  Holden  detect  the  feeling,  and  it  was 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  291 

> 

instantly,  than  he  corrected  it,  so  that  it  never  made  its  appear 
ance  again  in  his  presence.  In  fact,  a  feeling  of  fear  superseded 
the  impertinence  of  the  negro.  There  was  something  in  the 
burning  glare  of  Holden's  eyes,  and  the  deep  tones  of  his  voice, 
that  exerted  an  inexplicable  power  over  Felix.  Much  he  turned 
-it  over  in  his  mind,  why,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  was  obliged  to 
be  as  civil  to  Holdeu  as  to  white  gentlemen,  and  at  last  con 
cluded,  the  Solitary  possessed  some  magic  art,  by  which  he 
controlled  others.  He  the  more  readily  adopted  the  opinion 
because  he  considered  his  master  and  young  mistress  under  the 
spell  of  the  same  glamourie  to  which  he  himself  had  succumbed. 

When,  therefore,  Holden  struck  with  the  knocker  on  the 
door,  the  obsequious  Felix  was  at  hand  to  open  it,  and  show 
him  into  the  parlor. 

"  Tell  your  master  I  am  here,"  said  Holden,  entering. 

"  How  does  he  know  Mr.  Armstrong  is  at  home  ?"  said  Felix, 
to  himself.  "  But  I'm  a  free  man,  and  it  is  very  onpolite  to 
talk  about  my  master." 

"  The  Lord  hath  raised  up  a  mighty  salvation  for  us,"  was 
the  address  of  Holden,  as  Mr.  Armstrong  entered  the  room. 
"  I  come  to  bid  thee  farewell  for  a  time." 

"  Farewell  !"  repeated  Mr.  Armstrong,  without  comprehend 
ing  the  meaning  of  the  other. 

"  Sit  thee  down,  dear  friend,  and  listen  to  what  will  give  thee 
joy  for  my  sake  now,  and  thine  own  hereafter.  My  son,  who 
was  dead,  is  alive  again." 

Armstrong  was  at  a  loss  to  divine  the  meaning  of  his  visitor. 
He  took  it  for  some  figurative  form  of  expression,  and,  without 
making  any  reply,  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  as  if  try 
ing  to  recall  some  idea. 

Holden  read  his  thoughts.  "  Thou  dost  not  understand,"  he 
said.  "Know  then  that  the  child  perished  not  with  the 
mother." 


4**  THE      LOST    HUNTER. 

"  My  friend/'  said  Armstrong,  who  had  now  complete  com 
mand  of  himself,  "you  do  not  reflect  that  I  cannot  understand 
your  allusions.  Explain  to  me,  that  I  may  participate  in  your 

joy." 

"The  child  of  my  youth,  he  whom  I  lost,  whom  I  mourned 
for  so  many  years  as  dead,  is  alive,"  exclaimed  Holden,  in  tones 
of  irrepressible  emotion. 

"  I  give  you  joy,"  said  Armstrong,  grasping  his  hand.  "But 
you  never  mentioned  you  had  a  son.  How  have  you  lost,  and 
how  found  him  ?" 

"It  is  the  Lord's  doing,  and  it  is  marvelous  in  our  eyes," 
said  Holden.  "  Not  long  since  thou  didst  tell  of  an  unhappy 
man,  round  whom  afflictions  had  gathered.  Now  will  I  tell 
thee  of  another  not  less  wretched,  the  clouds  of  whose  sorrow 
the  setting  sun  is  gilding.  Be  it  unto  thee  for  a  lesson  of  hope, 
for  I  tell  thee,  James,  that  assuredly  thou  shalt  be  comforted." 

We  will  endeavor  to  compress  into  a  few  words  the  more 
diffuse  narrative  of  the  Recluse,  confining  ourselves  to  the 
substance. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  before  Holden's  constrained  retire 
ment  among  the  Indians,  he  had  attached  to  him  the  squaw, 
Esther,  by  the  ties  of  both  gratitude  and  respect.  But  it  was 
only  at  a  distance  she  looked  up  to  him  whom  she  regarded  as 
a  sort  of  superior  being.  She  would  not  have  ventured  to 
speak  to  him  of  herself,  for  how  could  he  take  an  interest  in  so 
insignificant  a  creature  ?  The  nearer  relations,  however,  into 
which  they  were  thrown,  while  he  was  an  inmate  of  her  cabin, 
without  diminishing  her  affection,  abated  her  awe.  The  teach 
ings  of  Holden,  and  the  strong  interest  he  manifested  for 
herself  and  tribe  so  affected  her,  that  one  day  she  made  *o  him 
a  confession  of  the  events  of  her  life.  It  is  only  necessary  to 
recount  those  which  have  a  connection  with  this  story.  Some 
twenty  years  previous  she  had  accompanied  her  husband  on  a 


THE    LOST      HUNTER.  293 

visit  to  a  tribe  in  Kentucky,  into  which  some  of  her  own  rela 
tives  had  been  received.  While  there  an  expedition  had  been 
undertaken  by  the  Indians,  which  her  husband  joined,  against 
the  white  settlements,  then  inconsiderable,  and  exposed.  After 
a  few  days  the  warriors  returned  in  triumph,  bringing  with 
them  many  scalps,  but  no  prisoner,  except  a  little  boy,  saved  by 
her  husband,  Huttarnoiden.  He  delivered  the  child  to  her,  and 
having  none  herself,  she  soon  learned  to  love  it  as  her  own. 
Huttamoiden  described  to  her  with  that  particularity  which 
marks  the  description  of  natural  objects  by  an  Indian,  whose 
habits  of  life  in  the  forest  compel  him  to  a  close  observation,  the 
situation  of  the  log-hut  from  which  the  child  was  taken,  the  hut 
itself  before  which  leaped  a  mountain  stream,  the  appearance  of 
the  unfortunate  woman  who  was  murdered,  and  the  desperate 
resistance  of  the  master  of  the  cabin,  who,  at  the  time,  was 
supposed  to  have  perished  in  the  flames,  but  was  afterwards 
known  by  the  name  of  Onontio — as  the  scourge  and  terror  of 
the  tribe  which  had  destroyed  his  family.  She  had  shortly 
afterwards  started  with  her  husband,  taking  with  them  the  little 
boy,  for  the  east,  but  they  found  the  innumerable  questions  and 
suspicions  occasioned  by  the  possession  of  the  white  child  so 
annoying,  and  dreaded  so  the  inquiries  and  investigation  that 
would  be  made  upon  their  return  home,  that  they  determined  to 
get  rid  of  him  upon  the  first  opportunity.  As  their  route  lay 
through  New  York,  the  streets  of  a  populous  city  furnished  the 
very  chance  they  desired.  It  was  with  great  reluctance  Esther 
felt  herself  compelled  to  this  course,  and  she  was  unwilling  the 
child  should  fall  into  unkind  hands.  While  reflecting  upon  what 
was  to  be  done,  she  remembered  a  family  which  had  come  from 
that  part  of  the  country  whence  she  came,  and  whom  she  had 
known  as  worthy  people,  and  determined  to  entrust  to  them  the 
boy.  She  dared  not  to  do  this  openly.  So  one  night  she 
placed  the  child  on  their  door-step,  enjoining  him  not  to  stir  until 


294  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

some  one  took  him  into  the  house,  while  she  herself  watched 
close  by,  until  she  saw  him  taken  in.  Since  then,  not  daring  to 
make  inquiries,  for  fear  of  bringing  on  herself  some  unknown 
punishment,  she  had  not  heard  of  the  boy.  She  remembered 
the  name  of  the  people  with  whom  he  was  left,  and  also  the 
street,  and  the  number,  and  gave  them  to  Holden. 

Upon  this  foundation  it  was  the  Recluse  built  up  the  hope 
that  his  son  was  yet  alive. 

"I  am  Onontio,"  he  said.  "The  Being  who  touched  the 
heart  of  the  ferocious  savage  to  spare  the  life  of  the  child,  hath 
preserved  him.  Mine  eyes  shall  yet  behold  him." 

Armstrong  was  deeply  touched,  and  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  brightening  prospects  of  his  friend,  he  forgot  the  clouds  that 
hung  around  his  own  horizon.  Perhaps  he  was  not  so  sanguine 
of  success  as  Holden,  whose  eagle  eyes  seemed  penetrating  the 
future,  but  he  respected  too  deeply  the  high  raised  hopes  and 
sacred  feelings  of  the  father,  to  drop  a  word  of  doubt  or  dis 
couragement. 

"  Myself,  my  purse,"  he  said,  "  are  at  your  service." 

"Thomas  Pownal  goeth  to  the  city  tomorrow,"  replied 
Holden.  "  I  will  speak  unto  him,  and  accompany  him.  Nor 
do  I  refuse  thy  assistance,  but  freely  as  it  is  offered  as  freely  do 
I  accept  it.  They  who  are  worthy  to  be  called  my  friends, 
regard  gold  and  silver  only  as  it  ministers  to  their  own  and 
others'  wants." 

He  took  the  proffered  bank-bills  with  quite  as  much  an  air  of 
one  conferring,  as  one  of  receiving  a  favor,  and,  without  even 
looking  at  the  amount,  put  them  in  his  pocket. 

It  was  so  long  since  Holden  had  been  in  the  great  world,  or 
mingled  in  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  man — and  his  appearance 
and  mode  of  speech  were  so  different  from  those  of  others — that 
Armstrong  had  some  fears  respecting  his  researches.  It  was, 
perhaps,  this  latent  apprehension  of  his  fitness  to  appear  in  the 


THE      LOST      HUNTER  295 

world — an  apprehension,  however,  only  dimly  cognizable  by  him 
self — that  induced  Holden  to  seek  the  companionship  of  Pow- 
nal.  With  these  feelings,  and  believing  he  might  be  of  advan 
tage  to  this  strange  man,  for  whom  this  new  development  awak 
ened  additional  interest  in  his  mind,  Armstrong  offered  to  be 
his  companion,  in  the  search  for  his  son  ;  but,  to  his  surprise,  his 
offer  was  hastily  rejected. 

"  No,"  said  Holden  ;  "  it  befitteth  not.  Stay,  to  take  care 
of  Faith.  Stay,  to  welcome  me  when  I  shall  return  with  a 
crown  of  rejoicing  upon  my  head." 

Armstrong  shrunk  within  himself  at  the  repulse.  He  would 
not  have  regarded  or  hardly  noticed  it  once,  but,  his  mind  had 
become  morbidly  sensitive.  A  word,  a  look,  a  tone  had  now 
power  to  inflict  a  wound.  He  was  like  the  Sybarite  whose 
repose  was  disturbed  by  a  wrinkled  rose-leaf  ;  with  this  diffe 
rence,  that  they  were  spiritual,  not  material  hurts  he  felt.  Did 
the  forecast  of  Holden  penetrate  the  future  ?  Did  he,  as  in  a 
vision,  behold  the  spectres  of  misfortune  that  dogged  Arm 
strong's  steps  ?  Was  he  afraid  of  a  companionship  that  might 
drag  him  down  and  entangle  him  in  the  meshes  of  a  predestined 
wretchedness  ?  He  is  right,  thought  Armstrong.  He  sees  the 
whirlpool  into  which,  if  once  drawn,  there  is  no  escape  from  des 
truction. 

Holden  succeeded  better  in  communicating  a  portion  of  his 
confidence  to  Pownal.  In  the  morning  of  life,  before  expe 
rience  has  dimmed  our  sky  with  clouds,  we  readily  perceive  the 
sun  of  joy.  The  bright  eyes  of  youth  catch  his  rays  on  the 
mountain  tops,  before  the  drooping  lids  of  age  are  raised  from 
the  ground.  The  ardent  temperament  of  the  young  man  entered 
with  delight  into  the  hopes  of  his  elder.  He  even  anticipated 
the  request  Holden  intended  to  make,  and  asked  permission  to 
accompany  him.  With  a  very  natural  feeling  he  endeavored  to 


296  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

effect  some  change  in  the  costume  of  the  Recluse,  but  here  he 
met  with  decided  opposition. 

"  I  have  noJiing  to-  do  with  the  world  or  its  follies,"  said 
Holden.  "  Let  it  pass  ou  its  way  as  I  will  on  mine.  It  will 
reck  but  little  of  the  garments  of  an  unknown  man." 

It  was  more  for  the  sake  of  his  friend  than  himself  that 
Pownal  proposed  the  change.  Perceiving  the  feelings  of  the 
other,  he  forbore  to  press  a  proposal  further,  which,  after  all, 
was  of  but  little  consequence.  A  sloop  was  to  sail  the  next  day 
—the  wind  favoring — from  Hillsdale,  and  it  was  agreed  between 
the  two  to  take  passage  together. 

We  may  judge  of  the  feelings  of  Pownal  at  this  time,  from  the 
fact  that  the  last  evening  he  spent  at  Hillsdale,  before  he  left 
for  New  York,  where,  indeed,  he  expected  to  remain  but  a  short 
time,  found  him  at  the  house  of  Judge  Bernard.  He  was  for 
tunate,  whether  beyond  his  expectations  or  not  we  cannot  say,  in 
finding  Miss  Bernard  alone.  At  least  it  was  a  fortunate  coin 
cidence  with  his  wishes,  and  might  we  judge,  from  the  raised 
color  of  the  cheeks,  and  the  smiles  that  played  round  the  lips  of 
the  beautiful  girl,  not  displeasing  to  her.  It  is  wonderful,  when 
we  look  back,  how  frequently  these  charming  accidents  of  youth 
occur. 

It  was  unnecessary  that  Pownal  should  speak  of  his  intended 
trip  to  the  commercial  capital.  He  seemed  to  assume  that  Anne 
was  already  acquainted  with  his  purpose,  but  of  Holden's  dis 
covery  she  had  not  been  informed. 

"  Beautiful  !"  cried  Anne,  clapping  her  hands.  "  We  shall 
have  a  denouement  fit  for  a  novel  yet.  Oh,  I  do  hope  he  may 
find  his  son.  And,"  added  she,  with  a  warm  quick  feeling,  "I 
can  see  now  reason  for  the  strange  habits  of  our  poor  dear 
prophet.  Oh,  to  think  of  the  long  years  of  lonesome  misery  he 
must  have  passed  !" 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  297 

"  He  seems  to  have  no  doubt,"  said  Pownal,  "  of  discovering 
his  lost  sou.  I  confess  that  when  I  heard  him  in  his  animated 
way  tell  his  story,  with  eyes  raised  in  thankfulness  to  heaven, 
I  was  swept  along  by  his  enthusiasm,  and  felt  no  more  doubt  than 
himself  of  liis  success  ;  but  when  I  reflect  more  calmly  on  the 
circumstances  the  prospect  is  not  so  brilliant." 

"Do  not  doubt  :  the  prospect  is  brilliant  :  Jeremiah  shall 
cease  his  lamentations  :  our  prophet  shall  be  made  happy.  Ah, 
why  anticipate  anything  but  good  I" 

"I  accept  the  omen,  dear  Miss  Bernard,''  said  Pownal,  look 
ing  with  admiration  upon  her  beaming  countenance,  "  Men 
arrive  at  conclusions,  how  often  false,  by  a  fallible  process  of 
reasoning,  while  truth  conies  to  your  more  fortunate  sex  by  a 
happy  inspiration." 

"  And  I  accept  the  compliment,  since  you  accept  the  inspira 
tion.  I  hope  it  is  with  more  than  the  ordinary  sincerity  of  those 
in  the  habit  of  making  compliments." 

"  I  wish  you  could  see  into  my  heart," 

"You  would  wish  the  window  closed  immediately.  What  do 
you  suppose  I  should  see  there  ;" 

"  Yourself." 

"Then  it  is  a  looking-glass,"  said  Anne,  blushing.  "A 
valuable  piece  of  furniture  certainly,  in  which  any  lady  may 
view  her  face  1" 

"  No  !  a  portrait  more  true  to  life  than  Stuart's,  and  which  I 
prize  above  everything." 

"You  must  be  mistaken  in  fancying  it  mine.  Only  old 
pictures  are  prized.  The  moderns  have  no  reputation." 

"  You  will  always  jest.  I  assure  you  I  am  serious,"  said 
Pownal,  who,  however,  was  obliged  to  smile. 

"  I  see  you  are  very  serious.  Oh,  I  hate  seriousness  ever 
since  I  was  frightened  by  the  long  face  of  Deacon  Bigelow, 
when  he  discovered  my  ignorance  of  the  catechism.  It  was  as 


298  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

long,"  she  added,  looking  round  for  something  to  compare  it  to, 
"  as  the  tongs." 

"  Or  as  your  lessons  of  a  June  day,  when  the  sunshine  and 
birds,  and  flowers  were  inviting  you  to  join  them." 

"  Or  as  the  time  when  I  do  not  see  Faith  for  twenty-four  hours." 

"  Or  as  my  absence  will  be  to  me  in  New  York." 

"  I  wonder  how  you,"  said  Anne,  "  who  are  accustomed  to 
the  bustle  and  excitement  of  a  large  city,  can  be  contented 
with  the  quiet  monotony  of  a  country  town." 

"I  found  something  here  not  to  be  found  in  all  country 
towns,"  said  Pownal.  "  Besides,  the  noise  and  confusion  of  a 
large  place  never  were  agreeable  to  me,  and  when  I  return  to 
them  they  lie  like  a  weight  upon  my  spirits.  Instead  of  a  city 
I  ought  to  have  been  born  in  a  boundless  forest." 

"You  know  I  have  said,  I  thought  there  was  a  wildness 
about  you,"  replied  Anne,  laughing. 

"Do  you  not  consider  the  wild  animal  tamed?" 

"  Not  entirely.     It  belongs  to  a  species  almost  irreclaimable." 

"  He  will  never  be  tamed  a  second  time." 

"Then  he  must  not  be  suffered  to  escape." 

The  words  flew  from  the  lips  of  the  gay  impulsive  girl  before 
she  was  aware.  The  eloquent  blood  crimsoned  her  cheeks,  and 
clapping  both  her  hands  upon  her  face  to  conceal  the  blushes, 
she  burst  into  a  laugh  as  musical  as  the  song  of  the  canary  bird. 
Pownal's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  but  before  he  could  utter  a 
word,  she  had  sprung  upon  her  feet. 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  she  cried,  "  to  compare  you  to  a  wild  animal. 
Forgive  and  forget  my  impertinence.  I  have  been  reading  a 
novel,"  and  as,  she  said  so  she  took  a  book  from  the  table,  "  by 
an  American  author,  which  interests  me  greatly.  Have  you 
seen  it  ?" 

Pownal  took  the  book  into  his  hands.  It  was  one  of  Charles 
Brockden  Brown's. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  299 

"I  read  it  some  years  ago,"  he  said  ;  "and  I  remember  it 
made  a  great  impression  upon  me  at  the  time.  It  appears  to  me 
to  be  written  with  wonderful  power  of  enchaining  the  attention. 
I  could  not  lay  it  down  until  it  was  finished." 

"  Exactly  as  I  was  affected,"  said  Anne. 

"  Yet  I  wonder  that  one  so  lively  and  merry  as  Miss  Bernard 
should  be  pleased  with  such  a  book.  The  subjects  of  Brown's 
novels  are  all  gloomy.  His  imagination  seems  at  home  only  in 
sombre  scenes.  His  is  the  fascination  of  horror." 

"I  wonder  at  it  myself.  But  it  shows  the  ability  of  the 
writer,  in  being  able  to  affect  as  thoughtless  a  person  as  I  am." 

"  Not  thoughtless.  No  one  would  say  that  of  you  but  your 
self.  It  is,  perhaps,  because  of  your  gaiety — on  account  of  the 
contrast.  The  sunshine  loves  to  light  up  dark  places." 

"  Yery  prettily  expressed.  Really,  if  you  go  on  improving, 
we  must  have  you  appointed  valentine-manufacturer-general  for 
the  town  of  Hillsdale." 

"  I  suspect  the  valentines  would  all  be  addressed  to  one 
person." 

"  Then  I  shall  oppose  your  appointment.  But  let  that  pass 
for  the  present.  You  were  telling  me  why  I  liked  Brown's 
novels," 

"  I  am  not  so  presumptuous.  I  was  only  guessing.  It  is  the 
Yankee's  privilege.  The  world  concedes  it  to  us.  I  suggest 
then  that  your  mind  wanders  through  those  dark  scenes 
with  an  interest  like  that  with  which  a  traveller  contemplates 
a  strange  country.  And  may  they  ever  remain  a  strange 
region  to  you.  May  you  ever  continue  to  be  what  you  are 
now,  a  bright  being,  at  whose  approach  sorrow  and  sadness 
fly  away." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the 
Judge  and  Mrs.  Bernard,  on  their  return  from  some  neighborly 
call.  Anne  received  the  bonnet  and  shawl  from  her  mother, 


300  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

who  was  evidently  accustomed  to  such  attentions,  nor  had  the 
young  lady  ever  appeared  more  beautiful  in  the  eyes  of  the 
young  man,  than  when  he  saw  her  rendering  those  little  services 
of  filial  respect  and  affection.  "  She  deserves,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  "  the  richest  gifts  of  Providence.  One  so  bright,  so  pure, 
so  innocent,  must  be  a  favorite  of  the  angels." 

These  were  lover's  thoughts,  and  our  readers  at  the  remem 
brance  of  youthful  dreams  and  fancies  will  pardon  their  extra 
vagance.  They  come  at  only  one  period  of  life,  and  oh,  how 
quickly  do  they  fly,  leaving  behind  a  trail  of  light  which  may, 
indeed,  be  obscured,  but  never  quite  extinguished. 

Pownal  informed  the  Judge  of  his  intended  departure,  and, 
as  usual,  received  from  him  and  Mrs.  Bernard  some  commissions 
to  execute  on  their  account.  That  of  the  former  was  for  some 
books,  while  his  wife's,  we  are  compelled  to  say,  however  undig 
nified  it  may  sound,  was  for  nothing  more  important  than  the 
last  fashionable  French  bonnet.  But  let  us  add  that  she  took 
not  more  pleasure  in  wearing  a  becoming  head-dress  (and  what 
new  fashion  is  not  becoming  ?)  than  he  in  seeing  her  handsome 
face  in  its  adornment. 

"My  husband,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Pownal,  tries  to  Frenchify  me 
a  little,  sometimes,  and  I  am  obliged  to  indulge  him,  he  is  gene 
rally  so  good  ;  but  he  will  never  succeed  in  making  anything  else  , 
out  of  me  than  a  plain  Yankee  woman." 

"  Plain  or  beautiful,  the  highest  title  to  my  affection,"  said 
the  Judge,  gallantly.  "  I  have  been  a  traveller,  Thomas,  and 
have  seen  the  Old  World.  This  is  a  progressive  world  ;  and, 
believe  me,  the  productions  of  the  New  are  not,  to  say  the  least, 
inferior  to  those  of  the  Old." 

"  I  can  well  believe  it,"  said  Pownal,  bowing  to  the  ladies. 

"  A  pleasant  voyage,  Thomas,"  said  the  Judge,  as  he  bade  his 
young  friend  good-bye,  "  along  the  sandy  shores  of  Long  Island, 
and  through  the  perils  of  Hell  Gate."  t 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  301 


CHAPTER    XXYIII. 

"  Then  lock  thee  fast 

Alone  within  thy  chamber,  there  fall  down 
On  both  thy  knees,  and  grovel  on  the  ground  : 
Cry  to  thy  heart :  wash  every  word  thou  utter'st 
In  tears  (and  if 't  be  possible)  of  blood  : 
Beg  Heaven  to  cleanse  the  leprosy." 

FORD'S  PLATS. 

ARMSTRONG,  upon  the  departure  of  Holden,  sat  moodily 
pondering  what  had  been  told  him.  Were  his  emotions  those 
of  pleasure  or  of  pain  ?  At  first,  the  former.  The  natural 
goodness  of  his  disposition  made  him  instinctively  rejoice  in  the 
happiness  of  his  friend.  For  a  few  moments,  he  forgot  himself, 
and,  as  long  as  the  forgetfulness  lasted,  was  happy  in  the  parti 
cipation  of  the  other's  hopes.  But  this  frame  of  mind  was  only 
momentary.  We  have  seen  how  an  answer  of  Holden  was  suffi 
cient  to  restore  his  gloom.  Thoughts  chased  each  other  in  wild 
confusion,  over  which  he  had  no  control,  which  he  reproached 
himself  for  admitting — which  he  would  have  excluded,  if  he 
could.  The  connection  between  him  and  the  Solitary  was  one 
of  mutual  misfortune.  Sorrow  was  the  ligament  that  united 
them.  For  years  had  he  known  Holden,  but  it  was  only  within 
a  short  time,  namely,  since  an  awakened "  conscience  (so  he 
judged,  himself)  had  revealed  to  him  his  own  hideousness,  that 
he  had  been  attracted  to  the  Solitary.  Should  Holden  recover 
his  son,  should  his  heart  expand  once  more  to  admit  worldly 
joys,  would  it  not  be  closed  to  him  ?  As  he  once  felt  indiffer- 


302  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

ence  towards  Holden,  so  would  not  Holden,  by  a  change  of  cir 
cumstances,  by  the  awakening  of  new  desires  and  new  hopes,  by 
the  occupancy  of  emotions  the  more  delightful  because  fresh  and 
for  so  long  unexperienced,  stand  to  him  in  other  and  colder 
relations  ?  These  reflections  were  not  clear,  distinct,  sharply 
defined.  They  drove  through  his  mind,  ragged  and  torn,  like 
storm-clouds  chased  by  the  tempest. 

There  were  two  beings  struggling  with  one  another  in  him — 
the  one  striving  to  encourage  the  noble  feelings  of  his  nature, 
and  drive  away  whatever  was  inconsistent  with  truth  and  reason 
— the  other  whispering  doubt,  and  selfishness,  and  despair.  He 
rose  and  paced,  with  rapid  steps,  the  room. 

"  Has  it  come  to  this  ?"  he  said  to  himself,  as  if  wondering  at 
his  condition.  "Am  I  become  incapable  of  participating  in  the 
happiness  of  others?  Am  I  a  festering  mass  of  selfishness? 
0  !  once  it  was  not  so.  I  will  resist  these  thoughts  which  come 
from  the  bottomless  pit.  They  shall  not  master  me.  They  are 
the  temptations  of  the  Evil  One.  But  can  I  resist  them  ? 
Have  I  not  grieved  away  the  spirit  ?  Is  there  place  for  repent 
ance  ?  Am  I  not  like  Esau,  who  sought  it  in  vain  with  many 
tears  ?  If  he  was  refused  the  grace  of  God,  why  not  I  ?  Why 
not  I,  that  I  may  go  to  my  own  place  ?  Already  I  feel  aad 
know  my  destiny.  I  feel  it  in  the  terrible  looking  for  of  judg 
ment.  I  feel  it  in  that  I  do  not  love  my  neighbor.  If  I  did, 
would  I  not  sympathize  in  his  happiness  ?  Would  this  wretcked 
self  for  ever  interpose  ?  I  never  knew  myself  before.  I  now 
know  the  unutterable  vileness  of  my  heart.  I  would  hide  it 
from  Thee,  my  God.  I  would  hide  it  from  Thy  holy  angels— 
from  myself." 

That  day,  Mr.  Armstrong  stirred  not  from  the  house,  as  long 
as  the  sun  remained  above  the  horizon.  The  golden  sunshine 
deepened  his  mental  gloom.  Nor  to  his  eyes  was  it  golden.  It 
was  a  coppery,  unnatural  light.  It  looked  poisonous.  It 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  303 

seemed  as  if  the  young  leaves  of  spring  ought  to  wither  in  its 
glare. 

He  heard  the  laugh  of  a  man  in  the  street,  and  started  as  if 
he  had  been  stung.  It  sounded  like  the  mockery  of  a  fiend. 
Was  the  laugh  directed  at  him  ?  He  started,  and  ran  to  the 
window,  with  a  feeling  of  anger,  to  see  who  it  was  that  was 
triumphing  over  his  misery.  He  looked  up  and  down  the  street, 
but  could  see  no  one.  The  disappointment  still  further  irritated 
him.  Was  he  to  be  refused  the  poor  satisfaction  of  knowing 
who  had  wounded  him  ?  Was  the  assassin  to  be  permitted  to 
stab  him  in  the  back  ?  Was  he  not  to  be  allowed  to  defend 
himself  ?  He  returned  and  resumed  his  seat,  trembling  all  over. 
Faith's  canary  bird  was  singing,  atv'the  top  of  its  voice.  Arm 
strong  turned  and  looked  at  it.  The  little  thing,  with  fluttering 
wings  and  elevated  head,  and  moving  w  foot,  as  if  beating  time, 
poured  out  a  torrent  of  melody.  The  sounds,  its  actions, 
grated  on  his  feelings.  He  rose  and  removed  it  into  another 
room. 

He  folded  his  arms,  his  head  fell  upon  his  chest,  and  he  shut 
his  eyes  to  exclude  the  light.  "  I  am  out  of  harmony  with  all 
creation,"  he  said.  "  I  am  fit  for  a  place  where  no  bird  ever 
sings.  This  is  the  evidence  of  my  doom.  Only  the  blessed  can 
be  in  harmony  with  God's  works.  Heaven  is  harmony — the 
music  of  his  laws.  Evil  is  discord — myself  am  discord." 

Faith  had  still  some  influence  over  him,  though  even  at  her 
entrance  he  started  "  like  a  guilty  thing  surprised."  Her  pre 
sence  was  a  charm  to  abate  the  violence  of  the  hurricane.  He 
could  not  resist  the  gentle  tones  of  her  voice,  and  at  the  spell 
his  calmed  spirit  trembled  into  comparative  repose.  Armstrong 
acknowledged  it  to  himself  as  an  augury  of  good. 

I  cannot  be  wholly  evil,  he  thought,  if  the  approach  of  a  pure 
angel  gives  me  pleasure.  The  touch  of  Ithuriel's  spear  reveals 
deformity  where  it  exists  ;  in  me  it  discloses  beauty. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

With  her  he  could  talk  over  the  ordinary  affairs  of  the  day 
with  calmness,  though  it  is  singular,  considering  the  perfect  con 
fidence  between  them,  that  he  never  adverted  to  the  communica 
tion  of  Holden,  notwithstanding  he  knew  it  would  possess  the 
highest  interest  for  her.  It  betrays,  perhaps,  the  weakened  and 
diseased  condition  of  a  mind,  wincing  like  an  inflamed  limb  at 
the  apprehension  of  a  touch. 

As  the  father  listened  and  looked  at  his  child,  he  felt  trans 
ported  into  a  region  whither  the  demons  could  not  come.  They 
could  not  endure  her  purity  ;  they  could  not  abide  her  bright 
ness.  Her  influence  was  a  barrier  mightier  than  the  wall  that 
encircled  Paradise,  and  over  which  no  evil  thing  could  leap. 
He  therefore  kept  her  by  him  as  much  as  possible.  He  mani 
fested  uneasiness  when  she  was  away.  His  consolation  and 
hope  was  Faith.  As  the  Roman  prisoner  drank  life  from  the 
pure  fountains  to  which  he  had  given  life,  so  Armstrong  drew 
strength  from  the  angelic  spirit  his  own  had  kindled. 

Yet  was  his  daughter  unconscious  of  the  whole  influence  she 
exerted,  nor  had  she  even  a  distant  apprehension  of  the  chaos 
of  his  mind.  How  would  she  have  been  startled  could  she  have 
beheld  the  seething  cauldron  !  But  into  that,  only  the  Eye  that 
surveys  all  things  could  look. 

Thus  several  days  passed  by.  An  ordinary  observer  would 
have  noticed  no  change  in  Armstrong,  except  that  his  appetite 
diminished,  and  he  seemed  restless.  Doctor  Elmer  and  Faith 
both  remarked  these  symptoms,  but  they  did  not  alarm  the  for 
mer,  though  they  grieved  the  latter.  Accustomed  to  repose 
unlimited  confidence  in  the  medical  skill  of  the  physician,  and 
too  modest  to  have  an  opinion  adverse  to  that  of  another  older 
than  herself,  and  in  a  department  wherewith  he  was  familiar, 
and  she  had  no  knowledge  except  what  was  colored  by  filial 
fears  and  affection,  and,  perhaps,  distorted  by  them  out  of  its 
reasonable  proportions,  Faith  went  on  from  day  to  day,  hoping 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  305 

-* 

that  a  favorable  change  would  take  place,  and  that  she  should 
have  the  happiness  of  seeing  her  dear  father  restored  to  his  for 
mer  cheerfulness. 

It  is  painful  to  follow  the  sad  moods  of  a  noble  mind,  con 
scious  of  its  aberrations,  and  yet  unable  to  control  them.  We 
have  not  the  power  of  analysis  capable  of  tracing  it  through  all 
its  windings,  and  exhibiting  it  naked  to  the  view,  and  if  we  had, 
might  shrink  from  the  task,  as  from  one  inflicting  unnecessary 
pain,  both  on  the  writer  and  the  reader.  It  is  our  object  only 
so  far  to  sketch  the  state  of  Armstrong's  mind,  as  to  make  his 
conduct  intelligible. 

His  restlessness  has  been  alluded  to.  He  found  himself 
unable  to  sleep  as  formerly.  Long  after  retiring  to  rest  he 
would  lie  wide  awake,  vainly  courting  the  gentle  influence  that 
seemed  to  shun  him  the  more  it  was  wooed.  The  rays  of  the 
morning  sun  would  sometimes  stream  into  the  window  before 
sleep  had  visited  his  eyelids,  and  he  would  rise  haggard,  and 
weary,  and  desponding.  And  if  he  did  sink  into  slumber,  it 
was  not  always  into  forgetfulness,  but  into  a  confused  mist  of 
dreams,  more  harassing  than  even  his  waking  thoughts.  The 
difficulty  of  obtaining  sleep  had  lately  induced  a  habit  of  read 
ing  late  into  the  night,  and  not  unfrequently  even  into  the 
morning  hours.  Long  after  his  daughter  had  sought  her 
chamber,  and  when  she  supposed  he  was  in  bed,  he  was  seated 
in  his  solitary  room,  trying  to  fasten  his  attention  on  a  book, 
and  to  produce  the  condition  favorable  to  repose.  The  dark 
ness  of  his  mind  sought  congenial  gloom.  If  he  opened  the 
sacred  volume,  he  turned  not  to  the  gracious  promises  of  recon 
ciliation  and  pardon,  and  the  softened  theology  of  the  New 
Testament,  or  to  those  visions  of  a  future  state  of  beatitude, 
which  occasionally  light  up  the  sombre  pages  of  the  Old,  as  if 
the  gates  of  Paradise  were  for  a  moment  opened,  to  let  out  a 
radiance  on  a  darkness  that  would  else  be  too  disheartening 


306  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

and  distracting  ;  but  to  the  wailings  of  the  prophets  and 
denunciations  of  punishment.  These  he  fastened  on  with  a  fatal 
tenacity,  and  by  a  perverted  ingenuity,  in  some  way  or  other 
connected  with  himself,  and  made  applicable  to  his  own  circum 
stances.  Naught  could  pass  through  his  imagination  or 
memory,  but,  by  some  diabolical  alchemy,  was  stripped  of  its 
sanative  and  healthful  properties,  and  converted  into  harm. 

"  Young's  Night  Thoughts  "  was  a  book  that  possessed  pecu 
liar  attractions.  For  hours  would  he  hang  over  its  distressful 
pages,  and  many  were  the  leaves  blotted  by  his  tears.  Yet 
those  tears  relieved  him  not.  Still,  from  time  to  time,  would  he 
recur  to  the  book,  as  if  tempted  by  a  fascination  he  could  not 
resist,  striving  to  find,  if  possible,  in  the  wretchedness  of 
another,  a  lower  deep  than  his  own.  Especially  in  the  solemn 
hours  of  the  night,  when  the  silence  was  so  profound,  he  could 
fancy  he  heard  the  flickering  of  the  candles,  he  read  the  book. 
Then  hanging  upon  image  after  image  of  those  deploring  strains, 
and  appropriating  all  their  melancholy,  intensified  through  the 
lens  of  his  own  dark  imagination,  he  would  sink  from  one  depth 
of  wretchedness  to  another,  till  he  seemed  lost  away,  where  no 
ray  of  light  could  ever  penetrate,  or  plummet  sound. 

He  had  been  reading  one  night  late,  until  as  if  unable  to 
endure  the  images  of  woe  it  conjured  up,  he  pushed  the  book 
away  from  him.  The  night  was  dark  and  stormy,  and  the  rain 
pouring  in  torrents.  He  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
He  could  see  nothing,  except  as  the  -landscape  was  revealed  for 
an  instant  by  a  flash  of  lightning.  He  could  hear  nothing, 
except  the  peals  of  thunder  rolling  through  the  valleys.  He 
took  a  candle,  and  walked  cautiously  to  the  door  of  Faith's 
chamber,  to  see  if  she  were  asleep.  The  door  was  ajar,  for  the 
purpose  of  ventilation,  and,  shading  the  light  with  his  hand, 
Armstrong  could  see  the  face  of  his  sleeping  daughter  without 
waking  her.  She  lay  in  the  profound  slumber  of  health  and 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  307 

youth,  undisturbed  by  the  noise  of  the  thunder,  as  one  conscious 
of  a  protecting  Providence.  Her  left  hand  was  under  her 
cheek,  the  black  hair  combed  back,  and  collected  under  the 
snowy  cap.  Her  breathing  was  scarcely  perceptible,  but  soft 
and  quiet  as  an  infant's.  An  expression  of  happiness  rested  on 
her  features,  and  the  color  was  a  little  kindled  in  her  cheek, 
looking  brighter  in  contrast  with  the  linen  sheet. 

"She  sleeps,"  he  thought,  "as  if  there  were  no  sin  and  misery  in 
the  world.  And  why  should  she  not  ?  What  has  she  to  do 
with  them  ?  Were  my  spiritual  eyes  opened,  I  should  see  the 
protecting  angels  in  shining  garments  around  her  bed,  unless  my 
approach  has  driven  them  away.  Heaven  takes  care  of  its 
own.  So  I  could  sleep  once.  Will  the  time  come  when  she, 
too,  shall  be  so  guilty  she  cannot  sleep  ?  Almighty  God  forbid  1 
Better  she  were  in  her  grave.  They  are  fortunate  who  die 
young.  They  are  taken  from  the  evil  to  come.  The  heart 
ceases  to  beat  before  it  becomes  so  hard  it  cannot  repent. 
Were  she  to  die  to-night  her  salvation  would  be  assured.  What 
infinite  gain  !  The  murderer  could  inflict  no  injury,  but  would 
confer  a  benefit." 

Why  did  he  start  ?  Why  did  he  shudder  all  over  ?  Why 
did  he  hastily  turn  round,  and  shut  the  door,  and  hasten  to  his 
own  room,  locking  it  after  him  ?  Why  was  it  he  took  some 
thing  from  his  pocket,  and,  opening  the  window,  threw  it 
violently  into  the  dark  ?  But  a  moment  Armstrong  remained 
in  his  room.  Blowing  out  the  candles,  and  noiselessly  descend 
ing  the  stairs,  he  as  quietly  opened  and  shut  the  front  door,  and 
stood  in  the  open  air. 

The  storm  was  at  its  height.  The  rain  poured  with  such 
violence  that  in  the  flashes  of  lightning  he  could  see  the  large 
drops  leap  from  the  ground.  But  he  felt  not  that  he  was  wet  to 
the  skin.  He  minded  not  that  he  had  left  the  house  without  a 
hat,  and  that  the  water  was  running  in  streams  from  his  head 


308  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

to  the  earth.  With  a  rapid  pace,  approaching  running,  he  fled 
through  the  streets,  until  he  reached  the  grave-yard.  Without 
a  ray  to  guide  him,  through  a  darkness  that  might  be  felt,  he 
found  his  way  to  a  grave.  Jt  was  his  wife's.  He  threw  him 
self  prostrate  on  his  face,  and  lay  motionless. 

When  Armstrong  raised  himself  from  the  ground  the  storm 
had  ceased,  the  clouds  had  left  the  sky,  and  the  stars  were 
shining  brilliantly.  He  gazed  around,  then  looked  up  into  the 
blue  vault.  What  were  those  innumerable  shining  points  ? 
Were  they  worlds,  as  the  learned  have  said  ?  Were  they 
inhabited  by  beings  like  himself,  doomed  to  sin  and  suffer  ?  Did 
they  suffer,  more  or  less  ?  Could  the  errors  of  a  few  years  be 
expiated  by  sufferings  of  ages,  as  countless  as  the  grains  of 
sand  on  the  seashore  ?  He  struck  the  palm  of  his  hand  vio 
lently  on  his  forehead  ;  he  threw  out  his  arm,  as  if  in  defiance, 
toward  heaven,  and  groaned  aloud.  It  seemed  as  though  from 
every  heaped-up  grave  that  groan  was  echoed,  and  called  to  him 
like  an  invitation  to  join  the  hosts  of  darkness.  He  started, 
and  looked  again  at  the  cruel  sky.  But  no  voice  of  comfort 
was  breathed  thence.  The  silver  stars  were  now  sparks  of  an 
universal  conflagration.  With  a  gesture  of  despair,  he  left  the 
city  of  the  dead. 

Silence  and  darkness  still  shrouded  the  house  of  Mr.  Arm 
strong  on  his  return.  He  closed  the  door  quietly  after  him,  and, 
cautiously  as  he  had  descended,  ascended  the  stairs,  wkich,  in 
spite  of  all  his  precaution,  creaked  under  his  feet.  The  sounds 
sent  a  thrill  of  alarm  through  him  as  though  he  feared  dis 
covery.  It  was  as  if  he  were  returning  from  some  guilty 
enterprise.  Without  striking  a  light,  he  threw  off  his  soaked 
garments,  and  got  into  bed.  Strange,  perhaps,  to  say,  he  soon 
fell  into  a  sleep,  deeper  and  more  refreshing  than  any  he  had  for 
a  long  time  enjoyed.  It  may  be  that  the  excitement  of  his  sys 
tem  was  worked  off  by  rapid  motion,  and  exposure  to  the  night 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  309 

air  and  rain,  or  that  nature,  unable  longer  to  endure  it,  sunk 
beneath  the  tension.  It  was  not  until  a  late  hour  he  arose, 
when  he  found  breakfast  awaiting  him.  After  the  usual  greet 
ings,  Faith  said  : 

"  Here  is  your  penknife,  father,  which  Felix  found  lying  on 
the  path  this  morning.  You  must  have  lost  it  from  your 
pocket." 

Mr.  Armstrong  took  the  knife,  without  reply,  and,  when 
unobserved,  dropped  it  into  the  fire 


310  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Cities  humming  with  a  restless  crowd 
Sordid  as  active,  ignorant  as  loud, 
Whose  highest  praise  is  that  they  live  in  vain, 
The  dupes  of  pleasure,  or  the  slaves  of  gain. 

COWPZB. 

WE  have  a  little  anticipated  the  order  of  events  for  the  pur 
pose  of  presenting  more  clearly  the  details  of  the  story,  it  being 
after  the  departure  of  the  Solitary  and  Pownal  that  some  of 
them  occurred.  The  favorable  wind  for  which  the  packet 
Calypso  had  waited  for  two  or  three  days  at  last  came,  and 
with  a  flowing  sheet  the  good  sloop  sped  over  the  waters  of  the 
Severn. 

The  means  of  communication  between  Hillsdale  and  the  com 
mercial  capital  were  very  different  in  those  days  from  the 
present.  Instead  of  the  fine  steamboats  and  railroad  cars, 
which  now  connect  the  two  places,  the  mode  of  travelling  was 
by  sailing  vessels  and  stage  coaches.  The  latter  were  the  surer 
— but  not  the  more  popular.  In  the  wintry  months,  when  the 
navigation  of  the  river  was  unimpeded  by  ice,  the  condition  of 
the  roads  was  such  that,  in  spite  of  the  dreariness  of  water 
transit,  at  that  season,  the  packets  were  able  to  maintain  a  fair 
rivalship  with  the  coaches,  while,  in  the  summer,  the  latter 
stood  but  little  chance  in  the  competition,  but  were  almost 
entirely  deserted.  To  this  result  the  comfortable  cabins  of  the 
coasters,  designed  for  passengers  (spacious  and  satisfactory  for 
those  times,  however  the  refined  effeminacy  of  the  present 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  311 

generation  might  sneer  at  them),  and  the  good  fare  they  fur 
nished,  not  a  little  contributed.  The  Calypso  was  one  of  the 
finest  of  the  line  of  packets  to  which  she  belonged,  and  provided 
with  every  convenience  that  could  be  desired.  She  was  a  sloop 
of  some  ninety  or  one  hundred  tons,  with  a  tall  mast,  that,  to 
the  timid  eye  of  a  landsman,  seemed  fitter  for  a  vessel  of  twice 
her  size,  and  when  her  enormous  mainsail  was  raised  and  usual 
sail  set,  she  looked  more  like  one  of  those  birds  whose  wings 
bear  such  a  disproportion  to  the  body,  that  in  the  contempla 
tion  we  forget  to  what  they  are  attached,  than  like  a  safe  and 
sea-worthy  craft.  But  the  shipwright  who  laid  her  keel  and 
shaped  her  ribs,  knew  what  he  was  about,  and  the  Calypso  was 
as  staunch  and  stiff  as  she  was  handsome.  Her  cabin  extended 
full  one-half  the  length  of  the  vessel,  and  by  means  of  a  raised 
quarter.deck,  was  conveniently  high  between  joints,  so  that 
even  the  tallest  man  ran  no  risk  of  striking  his  head.  True ,  it 
was  not  embellished  with  gilding,  and  mahogany,  and  satin- 
wood,  but  the  paint  was  virgin  white,  the  state-rooms  commo 
dious,  the  berths  wide,  and  the  bedding  and  linen  scrupulously 
clean.  Captain  Standish  prided  himself  upon  the  comfort  and 
propriety  of  his  craft,  and  the  good  reputation  he  enjoyed  and 
deserved.  The  length  of  the  passage  varied  according  to  the 
state  of  the  winds  and  tides.  It  might,  under  the  most  favora 
ble  circumstances,  be  made  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours,  and 
it  might  last  a  week.  It  was  at  a  period  of  the  world's  exist 
ence,  before  steam  and  electricity  had  imparted  a  feverish  impa 
tience  to  the  community,  and  men  did  not  hurry  as  if  they  had 
not  time  enough  to  live. 

But  let  it  not  be  thought,  that  it  is  as  one  who  peevishly 
resents  the  improvements  made  in  mechanical  and  other  depart 
ments  of  knowledge,  we  dwell  upon  these  particulars.  We  are 
quite  awake  to  the  fact  that  the  world  turns  round,  and 
although  the  consequence  is  an  alternation  of  light  and  dark- 


312  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

ness,  are  satisfied  with  the  change.  With  the  philosopher 
Pangloss  we  would  rather  believe,  "  dans  ce  mdlkur  des  mondes 
possible,"  than  to  entertain  any  less  cheerful  opinion.  No.  It  is 
rather  to  perpetuate  the  remembrance  of  what  has  been,  or  to 
qualify  more  truthfully,  and  modestly  the  expression,  to  save  it 
for  a  moment  longer  from  oblivion.  It  is  with  a  melancholy 
pleasure  that  one  who  has  reached  that  stage  of  the  journey  of 
life,  from  which  henceforth  his  progress  can  only  be  one  of  con 
tinued  descent  towards  the  valley  whereon  broods  the  cloud  not 
untouched  with  rays  of  divine  light,  reverts  to  whatever,  even 
though  they  may  seem  trifles,  characterized  the  beginning  of 
his  career.  Ah  !  it  was  the  breaking  of  the  morning.  For  a 
time  the  sky  glowed  with  a  deepening  glory,  to  fade  at  last  into 
the  "  light  of  common  day."  We  never  can,  we  never  would 
forget  that  lovely  dawning. 

Holden,  nothing  doubting,  was  confident  that  the  voyage 
would  terminate  for  him  in  the  restoration  to  his  arms,  of  the 
son  whom  he  had  mourned  as  one  dead.  Nor  did  he  seem  to 
have  a  doubt  of  the  worthiness  of  the  long  lost  treasure.  A 
hope,  brilliant  and  beautiful,  that  glorified  whatever  it  touched, 
had  taken  absolute  possession  of  him.  It  would  admit  no  fear, 
no  uncertainty,  no  despondency.  The  new  feeling  penetrated  all 
departments  of  his  mind,  and  mixed  itself  up  with  and  colored 
even  his  religious  speculations.  He  began  to  connect,  in  some 
way,  the  realization  of  his  awakened  hopes  with  the  millennium, 
of  which  it  was  to  be  a  forerunner.  This  appeared  especially  on 
the  second  day  cf  the  voyage,  which  lasted  three  days. 

It  was  a  warm,  bright  afternoon  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
month  of  May,  just  before  the  setting  of  the  sun,  and  Holden 
and  Pownal  had  walked  to  the  bow  of  the  vessel,  as  if  to  be 
nearer  the  golden  luminary  when  he  should  sink  from  sight.  A 
gentle  breeze  filled  the  sails  of  the  Calypso,  the  soft  murmur  from 
under  whose  cutwater  seemed  to  testify  to  the  delight  with 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  313 

which  she  moved  on  her  liquid  way.  For  some  time  Holden 
had  stood  with  folded  arms,  watching  the  sun,  as  by  slow 
degrees  he  sunk  into  the  waves.  Pownal,  himself,  was  thril- 
lingly  alive  to  the  magnificence  of  earth,  and  sky,  and  ocean, 
and  all  fair  forms  and  hues  of  nature,  and  noticing  the  exalted 
and  rapt  expression  of  his  elder  friend's  face,  and  sympathizing 
in  the  influence  that  produced  it,  was  in  no  mood  to  break  the 
silence. 

"Type  of  the  Infinite,"  at  last  Pownal  heard  him  say,  "how 
have  I  loved  to  watch  thy  coming  and  departure  !  Chariot  of 
fire,  whose  burning  wheels  support  the  throne  of  judgment,  thy 
course  is  onward  until  the  fullness  of  the  time  is  come.  Of 
man's  impatience  thou  reckest  not.  With  thee  a  thousand  years 
are  as  a  day." 

He  ceased  speaking,  and  a  total  silence  for  some  time  suc 
ceeded.  His  eyes  continued  fixed  upon  the  spot  where  the  sun 
had  disappeared,  but  they  saw  nothing.  An  interior  struggle 
was  going  on  which  engrossed  the  faculties,  and  left  no  oppor 
tunity  for  the  observation  of  external  objects.  Repeatedly  he 
passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes  and  forehead,  pressing  the  palm 
forcibly,  as  if  to  concentrate  the  attention,  and  at  length  he 
addressed  Pownal. 

"  The  scoffers  have  long  sat  in  the  gate,  and  lolled  out  the 
tongue  and  cried  aha  !  but  of  a  surety  the  time  draweth  nigh. 
Because  He  delay eth,  where,  say  they,  is  the  promise  of  His 
coming  ?  But  doth  a  sparrow  fall  to  the  ground  without  His 
knowledge,  and  are  not  ye  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows, 
oh,  ye  of  little  faith  ?  Shall  not  the  sorrows  of  fathers  move 
the  heart  of  the  universal  Father  ?" 

It  is  scarcely  to  be  expected  that  the  young  man  entirely 
understood  the  rhapsody  of  Holden,  though  familiar  with  his 
moods.  He  saw,  however,  it  had  some  connection  with  the  ono 

14 


314  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

idea  that  had  mastered  all  others,  leaving  them,  notwithstand 
ing,  at  perfect  liberty,  except  so  far  as  they  interfered  with 
itself.  For  it  cannot  have  escaped  observation,  that  on  all  sub 
jects  but  one  Holden  exercised  an  ordinary  degree  of  judgment, 
a  circumstance  by  no  means  singular  in  the  case  of  persons 
affected  with  monomania.  Pownal,  therefore,  did  as  he  was 
accustomed,  avoiding  all  contradiction,  and  falling  in  with  the 
other's  thoughts. 

"That,"  said  Pownal,  "it  seems  to  me,  is  the  worthiest  name 
that  can  be  given  to  the  Supreme  Being." 

"It  is  the  worthiest  and  the  dearest.  Thou,  young  man, 
canst  know  nothing  of  the  emotions  of  a  father's  heart. 
Couldst  thou  look  into  its  abysses  of  tenderness  a  new  world 
would  be  revealed  to  thee,  of  which  now  thou  only  dreamest. 
Not  a  drop  of  blood  that  wandereth  through  its  channels,  but 
would  coin  itself  into  a  joy  for  the  beloved.  But  what  is  human 
love  to  His,  the  Creator  of  love  ?  A  breath,  a  bubble,  a  sigh. 
One  great  heart  comprehendeth  in  its  embrace  all  hearts.  Look 
around  thee,"  he  added,  throwing  up  his  arms,  "  and  behold  the 
evidence  :  yon  blue  vault  filled  with  bright  worlds,  bright 
because  they  are  happy  ;  this  vast  ocean  teeming  with  strange 
life  ;  the  green  earth  whence,  as  from  an  altar,  the  perfume  of 
grateful  flowers  and  chants  of  praising  birds  do  ceaselessly  arise. 
Young  man,  be  thankful  and  adore." 

Holdeu  stopped,  as  if  he  expected  a  reply,  and  Pownal  there 
fore  said  : 

"  I  am  not,  I  fear,  sufficiently  thankful  for  the  favors  of  Pro 
vidence." 

"  '  Remember  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth/  "  pursued 
the  old  man.  "  How  many  erils  had  I  escaped  had  I  heeded 
the  advice  I  give  !  But  it  is  the  old  tale  of  human  folly.  The 
aged  with  his  experience  is  counted  for  nothing.  My  son,"  he 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  315 

added  impressively,  laying  his  hand  on  Pownal,  "  behold  these 
furrows  on  a  withered  face.  They  are  the  traces  of  unrestrained 
passion.  I  forgot  my  Creator  in  the  days  of  my  youth." 

He  turned  and  walked  away,  but  presently  retraced  his  steps 
and  took  up  the  train  of  thought  he  seemed  to  have  dropped. 

"  But  he  forgot  not  me.  His  mercies  are  over  all  his  works. 
Even  when  I  was  a  great  way  off  my  Father  saw  me,  and  had 
compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on  my  neck,  and  kissed  me.  And 
now  will  he  put  the  best  robe  upon  me,  and  a  ring  upon  my  fin 
ger,  and  shoes  upon  my  feet." 

Such  was  the  excited  and  hoping  condition  of  Holden's  mind 
as  the  vessel  approached  the  port  of  New  York,  which  it  reached 
the  next  morning.  Although  then  a  place  of  great  trade,  and 
giving  indubitable  promise  of  what  it  has  since  become,  New 
York  was  far,  very  far  from  approaching  its  present  splendor 
and  magnificence,  which  entitle  it  to  vie  with  the  most  brilliant 
capitals  of  the  world.  Even  then  the  ships  of  all  nations  were 
to  be  found  at  its  wharfs,  but  the  taper  masts  rising  into  the 
sky,  formed  not  a  cordon  so  immense  as  that  which  now,  like  a 
forest  stripped  of  its  leaves,  girts  it  round.  Nor  from  even  its 
most  fashionable  portions,  the  residence  and  resort  of  the 
wealthy  and  the  gay,  had  all  the  humbler  buildings,  which 
belonged  to  its  origin,  disappeared.  Alongside  of  the  modern 
brick,  or  occasionally  stone  mansion  of  four  stories,  that  style 
of  architecture,  dear  yet  to  the  heart  of  a  genuine  Knicker 
bocker  of  which  Holland  boats,  if  not  the  invention,  at  least 
the  perfectioning,  reared  its  pointed  gable,  and  rose  like  Jacob's 
ladder  with  parapeted  roof  into  the  sky.  But  slightly  injured 
by  weather  in  a  climate  singularly  clear  and  pure,  under  a  sky 
untarnished  by  the  dismal  clouds  from  bituminous  coal  fires, 
which  enshroud  less  favored  lands,  the  brave  little  Dutch  bricks 
held  their  own  with  a  sturdiness  becoming  their  ancestry.  Those 
monuments  of  a  simpler  age  have  almost  dispppeared,  and  the 


316  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

ingenuity  they  exhibited,  and  the  taste  of  which  they  were  the 
specimens,  are  likely  soon  to  be  remembered  only  as  steps  in 
the  worlds  pupilage. 

But,  however  the  fashions  of  man  may  change,  the  grand 
features  of  nature  remain  eternal.  Beautifully  bright  then  as 
now  sparkled  in  the  light  of  the  May  morning  sun,  the  waves 
of  that  glorious  bay,  unrivalled  but  by  one,  while  little  boats 
and  pinnaces  darting  about  in  all  direction  like  sea-birds,  gave 
animation  to  a  scene,  which  without  the  accompaniment  would 
have  possessed  peculiar  interest  to  one  who,  like  Holden, 
had  lived  so  long  in  seclusion.  As  the  vessel  turned  around 
Castle  Garden  to  se-ek  her  berth  in  the  North  River,  and  his 
eyes  ran  over  the  islands  and  Jersey  shore,  and  up  the  noble 
stream,  and  one  by  one  he  recognized  the  objects  he  had  seen  in 
his  youth,  it  seemed  as  if  feelings,  supposed  dead,  were  coming 
to  life,  and  nature  re-assuming  the  gala  garb  which  she  once 
wore. 

But,  independent  of  the  causes  that  made  the  scene  peculiarly 
attractive  to  our  traveller,  it  is  impossible  to  approach  a  large 
city  after  a  long  absence  without  excitement.  The  aggregation 
of  a  mass  of  human  beings  full  of  life,  and  instinct  with  its 
hopes,  and  fears,  and  joys,  and  sorrows,  and  passions,  acts  like 
a  stimulus.  Nature  is  beautiful,  and  art  glorious,  but  the 
object  of  deepest  interest  to  man  is  man  himself.  In  his  fellow 
beings  he  sees  reflected  his  own  interior  world,  a  world  of 
mystery  and  marvel,  whence  any  news  is  welcome  that  will 
impart  imformation  respecting  its  light  and  shade,  its  harmonies 
and  discords.  He  cannot  stand  outside,  a  looker-on,  separate 
and  apart,  having  no  portion  therein  :  he  is  in  it  and  of  it, 
an  integral  atom,  a  something  which  cannot  be  isolated  if  it 
would. 

The  packet,  after  some  delay,  occasioned  by  the  occupation  of 
her  berth  by  a  casual  trader,  was  finally  able,  by  advancing  one 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  311 

vessel,  and  pushing  another  back,  and  shoving  a  third  on  one 
side,  to  approach  the  wharf  at  the  foot  of  Courtlandt  street,  and 
land  her  passengers.  A  coach  was  presently  procured,  and 
Holden,  who  had  been  invited  by  Pownal,  accompanied  his 
young  friend.  The  distance  up  Courtlandt  street,  and  down 
Broadway  to  the  house  of  the  elder  Pownal,  which  was  near 
the  Battery,  was  short,  and  therefore  even  had  the  carriage  pro 
ceeded  more  leisurely,  and  the  Recluse  been  disposed  to  observa 
tion,  he  could  have  seen  but  little,  and  that  in  an  unsatisfactory 
manner.  Pownal  felt  some  curiosity  respecting  the  impression 
which  would  be  made  by  the  turmoil  of  a  large  city  upon  one 
who  for  so  many  years  had  excluded  himself  from  the  crowded 
haunts  of  men,  and  therefore  watched  his  companion  with  no 
little  interest  ;  but  Holden,  as  if  he  divined  his  thoughts,  and 
was  displeased  at  the  discovery,  or  for  some  other  unknown 
reason,  betrayed  no  change  of  feeling,  or  conduct,  but  was  as 
impassive  and  indifferent  to  all  passing  around  him  as  if  he  were 
in  his  own  hut.  So  far  from  showing  any  emotion,  he  threw 
himself  into  a  corner  of  the  carriage,  and  shut  his  eyes  as  if 
desirous  to  exclude  objects  of  which  he  was  regardless,  or  which 
only  annoyed  him.  The  young  man  knew  not  exactly  how  to 
interpret  the  other's  conduct,  but  was  too  much  accustomed  to 
his  habits  to  feel  surprise,  and  respected  him  too  greatly  to  desire 
to  intrude  into  anything  he  wished  to  conceal. 

The  carriage  stopped  before  a  fine,  large  brick  mansion,  worthy 
of  a  merchant  prince,  fronting  the  Battery,  and,  of  course,  com 
manding  a  view  through  the  trees  which  shaded  the  greensward 
of  that  beautiful  spot,  of  the  blue  water,  and  islands,  and  the 
Jersey  shore  sweeping  away  in  the  distance.  Fashion,  always 
capricious  in  her  movements,  has  deserted  the  lower  part  of 
Broadway  and  the  Battery,  by  far  the  most  charming  quarter 
of  the  city,  to  emigrate  to  a  part  of  the  island  on  which  Xew 
York  is  built,  more  remote  from  the  marts  of  trade.  Immense 


318  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

warehouses  occupy  the  sites  where  once  stood  the  abodes  of 
elegance  and  hospitality,  and  the  chaffer  of  traffic  has  succeeded 
to  social  welcomes  and  greetings  of  conviviality. 

The  black  servant  who  came  to  the  door  at  the  ringing  of 
the  bell,  stared  with  astonishment  at  the  unusual  figure  of 
Pownal's  companion,  but  if  disposed,  as  is  the  habit  of  his  class, 
to  be  deficient  in  respect  to  one  not  bearing  the  conventional 
stamp,  a  glance  of  the  young  man's  eye,  and  his  marked  defer 
ence  toward  the  stranger,  to  say  nothing  of  the  latter's  natural 
air  of  authority,  soon  restored  his  courtesy  and  usual  obsequious 
attention.  It  was,  therefore,  with  a  gracious  expression  of  coun 
tenance  and  polite  bow,  that  Mr.  Johnson  ushered  the  two 
gentlemen  into1  the  parlor. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Pownal,  Johnson  ?"  inquired  the  young  man. 

"  He  is  out  of  town,  sir,  with  the  whole  family.  I  believe  he 
went  to  Albany,  sir.1' 

"  Is  Mrs.  Corning  in  the  house  ?"  , 

11  Mrs.  Corning  is  just  come  back  from  market,  sir.  I  heard 
her  voice  only  a  minute  ago." 

"  Say,  I  would  like  to  speak  to  her." 

In  a  few  moments,  Mrs.  Corning,  the  housekeeper,  a  respect 
able-looking  woman,  of  some  forty-five  years  of  age,  made  her 
appearance,  and  testified  a  hearty  pleasure  at  seeing  the  young 
man,  whom  she  kissed  with  great  affection,  and  by  whom  she 
was  received  with  every  mark  of  regard. 

The  family,  she  said,  in  reply  to  the  questions  of  Pownal,  had 
been  absent,  at  Albany,  where  they  were,  on  a  visit  to  some 
relatives,  for  three  weeks,  but  were  daily  expected  home.  She 
was  so  sorry  they  were  absf  it.  They  were  all  well,  and  would 
be  so  glad  to  see  him  loo  ing  so  well.  She  thought  she  had 
never  seen  him  looking  better.  There  was  nothing  like  country 
air  to  paint  the  cheeks. 

Pownal  thought  this  a  good  opportunity  to   commend  his 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

friend  to  the  favorable  consideration  of  the  housekeeper,  and 

said — 

."That  I  am  well,  I  probably  owe  to  the  kindness 
gentleman,  who  will  remain  with  us  during  my  stay  in  town," 
at  the  same  time,  introducing  Holden  to  the  lady, 

«  Your  friends,  Mr.  Thomas,"  said  Mrs.  Corning,  courtesying 
to  Holden,  "  will  always  be  welcome  in  this  house.     But,  ti 
me,  have  you  been  sick?— I'm  sure,  yon  don't  look  so— or  some 
accident,  or" 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  by-and-by.     At  present,  a  cup 

of  coffee." 

"My  1  what  a  thoughtless  creature  I  am  1"  exclaimed  .rs. 
Corning.  "  The  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again,  put  all  idea  of 
breakfast  out  of  my  mind.  I  never  thought  of  asking,  if  you 
had  had  any.  But,  it  shan't  be  long  before  that  mistake  shall  - 

be  remedied." 

So  saying,  good  Mrs.  Corning  bustled  out  of  the  room,  o 
hospitable  thoughts  intent,  and,  in  a  short  time,  the  substantial 
comforts  of  an  American  breakfast  were  smoking  on  the  board. 
Pownal  partook  of  it  with  the  liberal  appetite  of  high  health 
and  youth  sharpened  by  his  little  voyage,  while  Holden  himself, 
though  in  far  greater  moderation,  was  not  unmindful  of  the 
viands  before  him.  His  achievements,  however,  did  not  seem 
to  satisfy  the  housekeeper,  who  vainly  pressed  her  delicacies 
upou  him,  and  who,  subsequently,  after  a  more  thorough 
observation  of  his  character  at  meals,  expressed  her  wonder,  fo 
Pownal,  whether  the  effect  of  a  long  beard  was  not  to  diminish 
the  appetite  1 


320  THE      LOST      HUNTT5R. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

I  met  with  scoffs,  I  met  with  scorns 

From  youth,  and  babe,  and  hoary  hairs, 

They  called  me  in  the  public  squares, 
The  fool  that  wears  a  crown  of  thorns. 

TENNYSON'S  "!N  MKMOBUM." 

IT  was  without  delay  that  Holden  applied  himself  to  the 
purpose  of  his  visit  to  JX"ew  York,  in  which  he  was  seconded,  to 
the  best  of  his  ability,  by  Powual.  All  the  time  the  young 
man  could  spare  from  his  own  business  he  devoted  to  his  friend, 
though  fearful  that  there  was  little  probability  of  succeeding  in 
the  search.  But  who,  however,  convinced  of  the  futility  of  the 
inquiries,  could  refuse  his  assistance  to  one  engaged  in  an 
investigation  of  so  deep  and  sacred  an  interest,  and  who 
believed  with  an  implicit  faith  in  ultimate  success  ?  And  such 
is  the  nature  of  enthusiasm,  or  a  high-wrought  faith,  that  Pow- 
nal  himself  could  not  refrain  from  entering  with  some  degree 
of  spirit  into  an  inquiry,  which  he  felt  would  probably  be  in 
vain. 

Together  they  sought  out,  in  the  first  place,  the  street  indi 
cated  by  Esther.  Formerly  an  obscure  part  of  the  city,  it  had 
now  become,  by  those  mutations  which  are  constantly  occur 
ring,  and  nowhere  with  such  rapidity  as  in  this  country,  a  con 
siderable  rendezvous  of  trade.  By  rare  good  luck,  the  name  of 
the  street  had  been  preserved,  and  by  luck  still  rarer,  the  house 
itself,  corresponding  in  all  respects  to  the  description  by  Esther. 
It  was  one  of  those  ancient  Dutch  houses,  of  which  mention 
has  been  made,  built  of  a  yellowish  brick,  and  standing  with 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  321 

its  gable-end  toward  the  street,  its  steep-pointed  roof,  consti 
tuting  at  least  one-half  of  the  building,  rising  with  an  air  of 
command,  dominating  the  whole,  and  seeming,  indeed,  to  be  that 
portion  to  which  all  the  other  parts  were  only  subsidiary,  and 
constructed  for  its  honor  and  glory.  Neither  Holdeu  nor  Pow- 
nal  had,  for  an  instant,  doubted  the  honesty  and  truth  of 
Esther,  and  yet  it  must  be  confessed,  that  the  discovery  of  a 
building,  so  exactly  corresponding  with  her  description,  added 
fresh  fuel  to  the  hopes  of  the  former,  and  was  not  without  influ 
ence  on  the  latter.  And  yet,  at  a  moment  when,  as  it  seemed 
to  himself,  he  was  about  to  realize  his  dear  hopes — for  the 
imagination  of  the  Solitary  leaped  over  all  intervening  difficul 
ties,  and,  in  the  confusion  of  his  mind,  it  almost  appeared  as  if 
when  the  door  opened,  he  should  see  and  recognize  his  son — 
Holden  laid  his  hand  on  PownaPs  arm,  and  arrested  his  steps. 

"  Stay,"  he  said,  "  let  me  pause  a  moment,  and  recover  my 
wandering  thoughts.  There  is  a  sound  as  of  a  tempest  in  my 
brain,  and  a  confused  noise,  as  of  a  trampling  of  men  and 
horses." 

He  sat  down  on  the  stone  step,  as  if  unable  to  support  him 
self,  and  rested  his  head  on  his  hand, 

"  Here,"  he  said,  speaking  to  himself,  with  a  trembling  voice, 
"  the  merciful  savage  whose  heart  the  Lord  touched,  left  my 
child.  Here  his  little  feet  trod,  and  against  this  wall  his  head 
rested.  Would  that  these  inanimate  things  could  know  my 
gratitude  !  But  thou  knowest  it,  0,  all  Merciful,  my  goodness, 
and  my  fortress,  my  high  tower,  and  my  deliverer,  my  shield, 
and  he  in  whom  I  trust.  Lord,  what  is  man  that  thou  takest 
knowledge  of  him  !  or  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  makest  account 
of  him  !  Didst  thou  not,  in  the  olden  time,  hear  the  voice  of 
the  perishing  child,  Ishmael,  and  say,  by  thine  angel,  unto  his 
weeping  mother,  Fear  not,  for  God  hath  heard  the  voice  of  the 
lad  where  he  is.  Arise,  lift  up  the  lad,  and  hold  him  in  thine 

14* 


322  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

hand,  for  I  will  make  him  a  great  nation  ?  Even  so  now  hast 
thou  done  unto  me  and  remembered  me  in  my  low  estate,  for 
thy  mercy  endureth  for  ever." 

Thus  the  father  poured  out  his  heart,  alike  unconscious  of  the 
gathering  crowd,  which  his  unusual  appearance  and  strange  lan 
guage  had  collected  around  him,  and  of  the  observations  they 
made. 

"  I  say,  Haxall,"  said  a  stout  boy,  whose  dirty  and  ragged 
clothing,  and  vicious  expression  of  face,  proclaimed  him  one  of 
those  predestined  candidates  for  the  State  Prison  and  gallows, 
bred  to  their  fate  by  the  criminal  neglect  of  the  State,  "  I  say," 
he  said,  addressing  his  companion,  as  wicked  looking  as  himself, 
"isn't  it  a  rum  old  covey." 

"  Why  the  old  cuss  is  a  crying,"  answered  Haxall,  "  or,  per 
haps,  it's  the  whisky  leaking  out  he  took  for  his  morning 
bitters." 

"Whisky  be  d d,"  said  the  other.  "He  never  got  as 

far  as  that.  It's  nothing  but  sour  cider.  I  can  smell  it." 

Here  there  was  a  brutal  laugh,  in  which  some  of  the 
bystanders,  equally  degraded,  joined. 

"  For  shame,  young  men,"  said  a  respectable-looking  person, 
whose  broad-brimmed  hat,  and  formal  and  amply  cut  clothing, 
proclaimed  him  a  Quaker  ;  "  is  an  old  man,  in  tears,  a  proper 
subject  for  ribaldry  ?  It  were  better  ye  were  engaged  in  some 
honest  employment,  than  idling  away  your  time,  and  disgracing 
yourselves  by  the  use  of  profane  language." 

"  Smoke  the  old  quiz,  Haxall,"  cried,  the  boy  who  had  first 
spoken.  "  He  opens  rich.  Let's  see  what's  in  the  prig." 

"  SiAoke  him,  smoke  him,"  cried  several  voices. 

Thus  exhorted,  Haxall  jerking  his  cap  jauntily  on  one  side 
of  his  head,  throwing  an  additional  quantity  of  impudence  into 
his  face,  and  placing  his  hands  on  the  hips,  so  that  the  elbows 
stuck  out  on  each  side,  approached  the  Quaker. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  '     323 

"  So  you  set  yourself  up  for  a  preacher  of  righteousness,"  he 
said  ;  "do  ye  ?  Well,  you  may  preach  away  without  asking 
my  leave,  or  I'll  give  it  to  ye  gratis,  for  nothing.  That's  cheap 
enough,  I  guess.  Most  of  your  sort,  though,  don't  like  to 
preach  for  nothing.  So  here's  my  contribution  to  set  you  a 
going."  So  saying,  he  held  out  a  cent.  "There's  value 
received,"  he  added,  "  and,  mind  ye,  ye  give  us  a  preachment 
equal  to  the  consideration.  But  first,  beloved  brother,  I've  a 
question  to  ask.  Up  to  the  tip  top  of  your  judgment,  now  do 
you  think  your  regimentals  is  just  the  right  thing,  and  no  mis 
take.  ?  Did  Saint  Paul  and  Saint,  Saint,  d n  the  fellows,  I 

forget  their  names  " 

"  Saint  Tammany,"  suggested  his  companion. 

"I  owe  you,  a  drink  for  that,  Bill,"  said  Haxall.  "Yes, 
Saint  Tammany.  Now,  do  you  think  them  gentlemen,  who  I've 
heard,  was  real  respectable  men,  though  it  was  rather  a  come 
down  to  take  to  preaching,  ever  sported  such  an  infernal  broad 
brim  as  that,  or  turned  out  a  tail  as  broad  as  yours  ?" 

The  Quaker  gentleman,  who,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
young  scamp's  speech,  as  if  frightened  at  the  prospect  of  a  col 
loquy  he  had  provoked,  had  betrayed  a  desire  to  escape  from 
the  crowd,  seemed,  as  the  other  proceeded,  to  have  changed  his 
mind,  and  listened  to  him  with  the  utmost  calmness  and  imper 
turbable  good  humor.  When  the  boy  had  got  through  with  his 
impertinences,  which  he  ran  over  with  great  volubility,  garnish 
ing  them  with  many  epithets  we  have  omitted,  and,  at  the 
close,  had  received  the  applause  of  those  like  him,  who  stood 
around,  and,  now,  seemed  waiting  for  a  reply,  the  Quaker,  with 
great  sweetness,  answered — 

"  My  young  friend,  it  would  ill  become  me  to  return  a  harsh 
word  for  thy  rather  rude  address,  nor  will  my  feelings  towards 
thee  and  all  in  thy  unhappy  condition,  permit  me  to  speak  to 
thee,  except  in  pity  and  in  sorrow." 


324  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

"  Go  to  h — 1  with  your  pity.  Nobody  asks  you  for  it," 
exclaimed  Haxall,  fiercely. 

"  Gently,  boy,  gently,  and  do  not  profane  thy  lips  with  such 
language.  Alas  !  thou  hast  been  allowed  to  grow  up  like  a 
wild  animal,  and  canst  not  be  expected  to  know  there  are  those 
who  regard  thee  with  affection.  But,  surely,  goodness  can 
never  be  quite  extinguished  in  one  who  has  the  form  of 
humanity.  I  see  thou  dost  not  know  me  ?" 

"  Never  set  eyes  on  ye  before,  old  square  toes,  and  be  d d 

to  you." 

"  Yet,  I  know  thee,  and,  perhaps,  the  guilt  is  partly  .mine 
that  thou  art  even  now  what  thou  art.  Thou  hast,  then,  for 
gotten  the  man  who,  only  a  year  ago,  jumped  off  Coenties 
Slip,  and,  by  the  kindness  of  Providence,  rescued  a  boy  from 
drowning  ?" 

"  Have  I  forgot  !"  exclaimed  Haxall,  with  a  sudden  revulsion 

of  feeling.     "  No,  d d  me,  not  altogether.     I  thought  there 

was  something  devilish  queer  in  your  voice.  So  you  was  the 
man,  and  I  am  the  b'hoy.  Oh,  what  a  cussed  beast  I  am  to 
insult  you  !  Give  us  your  hand.  I  ask  your  pardon,  sir.  I 
ask  your  pardon.  And,"  he  added,  looking  fiercely  round,  "  if 
there's  a  man  here  who  crooks  his  thumb  at  ye,  I  swear  I'll 
whip  him  within  an  inch  of  his  life." 

"  Swear  not  at  all,"  said  the  mild  Quaker,  "  nor  talk  of  fight 
ing,  as  if  thou  wert  a  dog.  I  see,  notwithstanding  thy  coarse 
ness  and  vile  language,  thou  art  not  all  evil,  and,  if  thou  wilt 
come  with  me,  I  will  endeavor  to  repair  my  former  neglect,  by 
putting  thee  in  a  situation  where  thou  mayst  become  an  useful 
man." 

The  boy  hesitated.  Two  impulses  seemed  to  be  drawing  him 
in  opposite  directions.  He  was  afraid  of  the  ridicule  of  his 
companion,  and  of  the  sneer  which  he  saw  on  his  face,  and  who, 
now,  was  urging  him  to  leave  with  him.  Yet,  there  was  some- 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  325 

thing  peculiarly  attractive  about  the  Quaker  that  was  difficult 
to  resist. 

The  good  Quaker  read  the  indecision  of  his  mind,  and  under 
stood  the  cause.  "  Come,"  he  said,  "  be  a  man,  and  choose  for 
thyself  like  a  man.  Thou  shalt  remain  with  me  only  so  long  as 
thou  wilt,  and  shalt  be  free  to  leave  at  thy  pleasure." 

"  That's  fair,"  said  Haxall.  "  I'll  go  with  you,  sir.  Good 
bye,  Bill,"  he  exclaimed,  turning  to  his  companion,  and  extend 
ing  his  hand.  But  Bill,  thrusting  both  his  hands  into  his  pock 
ets,  refused  the  hand,  and  answered  contemptuously — 

"  If  you've  turned  sniveller,  go  and  snivel  with  Broadbrim. 
I've  nothing  to  say  to  such  a  mean-spirited  devil." 

"  You're  a  mean  devil  yourself,"  retorted  Haxall,  all  his  fiery 
passions  kindling  at  the  other's  taunt.' 

"  Come,  my  young  friend,"  said  the  gentleman,  drawing  him 
away  gently,  "  return  not  railing  for  railing.  I  trust  the  time 
may  yet  come,  when  reproach,  instead  of  exciting  anger,  will 
only  be  an  incentive  to  examine  thy  bosom  more  closely,  to  see 
if  thou  dost  not  deserve  it," 

Long  before  the  conclusion  of  this  conversation,  the  original 
cause  of  it  had  entered  the  house  with  Pownal,  and,  upon  his 
departure,  the  little  crowd  had  gradually  dispersed,  so  that, 
when  the  benevolent  Quaker  left,  with  the  boy  whom  he  hoped 
should  be  a  brand  plucked  from  the  burning,  very  few  persons 
remained.  Bill  followed  his  departing  companion  with  a  scorn 
ful  laugh,  but  the  latter — as  if  his  good  angel  stood  by  his  side 
to  strengthen  him — had  resolution  enough  to  disregard  it. 

When  Holden  and  Pownal  entered  the  house,  the  front  "part 
of  which  was  used  as  a  shop,  they  were  received  with  great  civi 
lity  by  a  woman  who  was  officiating  at  the  counter,  and,  upon 
their  desire  to  speak  with  her  husband,  were  shown  by  her  into 
a  back  room,  used  as  a  parlor,  and  requested  to  be  seated. 
Her  husband,  she  said,  had  stepped  out  a  short  time  since, 


326  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

though,  already,  gone  longer  than  she  expected,  and  would  cer 
tainly  be  back  in  a  few  moments.  Her  prophecy  was  correct, 
for,  sure  enough,  they  were  hardly  seated  before  he  made  his 
appearance. 

He  appeared  to  be  an  intelligent  person,  and  answered  with 
out  suspicion  or  hesitation  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  all  the 
questions  addressed  to  him,  so  soon  as  he  understood  their 
object.  But  his  information  was  exceedingly  limited.  He  knew 
nothing  at  all  about  a  person  who  had  occupied  the  house  more 
than  twenty  years  before — nor  was  it,  indeed,  reasonable  to 
suppose  he  should.  In  all  probability  the  number  of  tenants 
was  almost  as  great  as  of  the  years  that  had  since  elapsed  :  the 
name  mentioned  to  him  was  a  very  common  one  :  many  such 
were  to  be  found  in  the  Directory,  and  the  chances  were  that 
the  house  itself  had  repeatedly  changed  owners  in  a  community 
so  changeable  and  speculating.  If  the  gentlemen  would  allow 
him  to  suggest,  the  best  course  would  be  to  examine  the  records 
in  the  Register's  office,  and  trace  the  title  down  to  the  time 
desired.  In  this  way  the  name  of  the  owner  could,  without 
difficulty,  be  discovered,  and  if  he  were  alive  he  might,  per 
haps,  be  able  to  inform  them  what  had  become  of  the  person 
who  was  his  tenant  at  the  time,  although  that  was  hardly 
probable. 

The  suggestion  was  plainly  sensible,  and  had,  indeed,  occurred 
to  Pownal  from  the  beginning,  and  he  had  accompanied  Holden 
that  morning  more  for  the  purpose  of  determining  whether  the 
house  .described  by  Esther,  still  existed,  than  with  the  expecta 
tion  of  making  any  further  discovery.  His  anticipations  had 
been  more  than  realized  ;  a  favorable  beginning  had  been  made; 
there  was  every  inducement  to  prosecute  the  search.  When, 
therefore,  Holden  and  Pownal  thanked  the  obliging  shopkeeper 
for  his  politeness,  and  took  their  leave,  both  felt  that  their 
morning  had  not  been  thrown  away,  though  the  condition  of 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

their  minds  was  somewhat  different,  the  former  being  confident 
of  success,  the  latter  hoping  for  it. 

"  I  will  call  at  the  Register's  office,"  said  the  young  man, 
"  and  direct  an  examination  to  be  made  of  the  records.  We 
shall  be  able  to  obtain  the  result  to-morrow,  and  until  then  you 
must  endeavor  to  amuse  yourself,  my  dear  friend,  as  well  as 
possible.  You  know  I  sympathize  with  your  impatience,  and 
shall  Expedite  our  search  with  all  diligence,  and  heaven  grant 
it  a  happy  termination." 

Pownal  saw  that  the  search  was  made  at  the  office  of  the 
Register,  and  the  title  traced  through  several  persons  to  the 
period  when  the  house  was  occupied  by  the  man  named  by  Esther. 
Upon  further  inquiry  it  was  ascertained  that  the  proprietor  at 
that  time  was  still  alive,  and  one  of  the  principal  citizens  of  the 
place.  Holden  lost  no  time  in  calling  upon  him,  but  was 
doomed  to  disappointment.  He  was  received,  indeed,  with 
great  urbanity  by  the  gentleman,  one  of  the  old  school,  who 
proffered  every  aid  in  his  power,  and  made  an  examination  of 
his  papers  to  discover  the  name  of  his  tenant.  He  was  suc 
cessful  in  the  search,  and  found  that  the  name  was  the  same 
given  by  Esther,  but  what  had  become  of  the  man  he  was 
unable  to  say. 

Holden  now  determined  to  make  the  inquiry  of  every  one  of 
the  same  name  as  that  of  the  person  sought.  The  search  he 
pursued  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  vehement  nature,  stimulated  by 
the  importance  of  an  object  that  lay  so  near  his  heart.  There 
was  no  street,  or  alley,  or  lane,  where  there  was  the  slightest 
chance  of  success,  unvisited  by  his  unwearied  feet.  And  varied 
was  the  treatment  he  received  in  that  persevering  search  :  by 
some  met  with  contempt  and  insult  as  a  crazy  old  fool,  whose 
fittest  place  was  the  lunatic  asylum,  and  who  ought  not  to  be 
allowed  to  prowl  about  the  streets,  entering  people's  houses  at 


328 


THE      LOST     HUNTER. 


unseasonable  hours  and  plaguing  them  with  foolish  questions  :  by 
others  with  a  careless  indifference,  and  an  obvious  desire  to  be 
rid  of  him  as  soon  as  possible,  but  to  the -honor  of  human  nature, 
be  it  said,  by  most  with  sympathy  and  kindness.  It  was,  more 
over,  usually  among  the  poorer,  that  when  it  was  necessary  to 
mention  the  reason  of  his  inquiry,  he  was  treated  with  the  most 
gentleness  and  consideration.  Whether  it  is  that  suffering  had 
taught  them  feeling  for  others'  woes,  while  prosperity  and  worldly 
greed  had  hardened  the  hearts  of  the  richer,  let  the  reader  deter 
mine.  And,  again,  it  was  upon  the  women  his  tale  made  the 
tenderest  impression.  Whatever  maybe  the  condilionof woman, 
however  sad  her  experience  in  life,  however  deplorable  her  lot, 
however  low  she  may  be  sunk  in  degradation,  it  is  hard  to  find 
one  of  her  sex  in  whom  sensibility  is  extinguished.  With  her, 
kindness  is  an  instinct.  The  heart  throbs  of  necessity  to  a  story 
of  sorrow,  and  the  eye  overflows  with  pity. 

But  the  diligence  of  Holden  was  in  vain,  and,  at  last,  he  was 
obliged  to  confess  that  he  knew  not  what  further  to  do,  unless 
he  took  his  staff  in  hand  and  wandered  over  the  world  in  prose 
cution  of  his  search. 

"  And  that  will  I  do,  Thomas,"  he  said,  as  one  day  he 
returned  from  his  inquiry,  "  if  naught  else  can  be  done.  My 
trust  is  in  the  Lord,  and  He  doth  not  mock.  He  despisetb  not 
the  sighing  of  the  heart,  nor  hath  He  made  the  revelation  and 
put  this  confidence  into  my  mind  in  vain.  I  know  in  whom  I 
have  trusted,  and  that  He  is  faithful  and  true." 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  opinion  of  Pownal,  he  was 
incapable  of  uttering  a  word  to  discourage  Holden,  or  of 
inflicting  unnecessary  pain.  "  Why  should  I,"  he  said,  "  dampen 
his  enthusiasm  ?  Small,  as  seems  to  me,  the  chance  of  ever  dis 
covering  his  son,  it  is,  after  all,  mere  opinion.  Things  more 
wonderful  than  such  a  discovery  have  happened.  By  me,  at 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  329 

least,  he  shall  be  sustained  and  encouraged.  Disappointment, 
if  it  comes,  will  come  soon  enough.  I  will  not  be  its  ill-omened 
herald."  He,  therefore,  said,  in  reply— 

"  Esther's  story  is  certainly  true.  Our  researches  corroborate 
its  truth.  We  have  found  the  house,  and  a  person  of  the  name 
she  gave,  did  live  in  it  at  the  time  she  mentioned." 

"  They  satisfy  thee,  Thomas  ;  but  I  have  a  more  convincing 
proof — an  internal  evidence — even  as  the  sure  word  of  pro 
phecy.  It  speaks  to  me  like  a  sweet  voice,  at  mine  uprising 
and  lying  down,  and  bids  me  be  strong  and  of  good  cheer, 
for  the  day  of  deliverance  draweth  nigh.  Doubt  not,  but 
believe  that,  in  His  good  time,  the  rough  places  shall  be  made 
smooth,  and  the  darkness  light.  And  yet,  shall  I  confess  it  unto 
thee,  that,  sometimes,  a  sinful  impatience  mastereth  me  ?  I  for 
get,  that  the  little  seed  must  lie  for  a  time  in  the  earth,  and 
night  succeed  day  and  day  night,  and  the  dew  descend  and  the 
rain  fall,  and  the  bright  sun  shine,  and  his  persuasive  heat 
creep  into  the  bosom  of  the  germ  before  its  concealed  beauty 
can  disclose  itself,  and  the  lovely  plant — the  delight  of  every 
eye — push  up  its  coronal  of  glory.  But,  it  is  a  transitory  cloud, 
and  I  cry,  Away  !  and  it  departeth,  and  I  say  unto  my  heart, 
Peace,  be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God  !" 

"  It  would  seem,"  said  Pownal,  "  that  there  is  often  a  connec 
tion  between  the  presentiments  of  the  mind  and  an  approaching 
event.  How  frequently  does  it  happen,  for  instance,  that  one, 
without  knowing  why,  begins  to  think  of  a  person,  and  that, 
almost  immediately,  the  person  will  present  himself. 

"It  is  the  shadow  of  approaching  destiny,  and  men  have 
moulded  the  fact  into  a  proverb.  There  is  a  world  of  truth 
in  proverbs.  They  enclose,  within  a  small  space,  even  as  a 
nut  its  kernel,  a  sum  of  human  experience.  In  the  case 
thou  citest,  may  it  not  be  that  the  man  doth  project  a  sphere 
of  himself,  or  subtle  influence,  cognizable  by  spirit,  albeit, 


330  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

the  man  be  himself  thereof  unconscious  ?  But  know  that 
it  is  no  vague  and  uncertain  emotion  that  I  feel.  I  tell  thee 
young  man,  I  have  heard  the  voice  as  I  hear  thee,  and  seen 
the  vision  clearer  than  in  dreams.  Naught  may  stay  the  wheel 
of  destiny.  An  Almighty  arm  hath  whirled  it  on  its  axis,  and 
it  shall  revolve  until  He  bids  it  stop.7' 

Thus,  unfaltering  in  his  confidence,  secure  of  the  result, 
believing  that  to  himself  a  revelation  had  been  made,  the  Soli 
tary  expressed  himself.  As  the  blood  mounted  into  his  ordi 
narily  pale  cheeks,  his  lips  quivered  and  his  eyes  were  lighted 
up  with  a  wild  enthusiasm,  Pownal  could  not  but  admire  and 
acknowledge  the  omnipotence  of  that  faith  which  regards  no 
task  as  arduous,  aud  can  say  unto  the  mountains,  Be  ye  cast 
into  the  sea  I  and  it  is  done. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  331 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

Oh  my  soul's  joy ! 

If  after  every  tempest  come  such  calms, 
May  the  winds  blow  till  they  have  wakened  death  ! 
And  let  the  laboring  bark  climb  hills  of  seas 
Olympus-high,  and  duck  again  as  low 

As  hell's  from  heaven. 

OTHELLO. 

IN  accordance  with  the  determination  he  had  expressed,  Hoi- 
den  began  soon  to  talk  about  putting  his  wild  plan  of  roaming 
through  the  world  into  execution,  and  was  withheld  from  it  only 
by  the  entreaties  of  Pownal,  that  he  would  at  least  postpone  it 
until  after  the  arrival  of  his  uncle,  who  was  daily  expected,  and 
until  they  had  taken  his  advice. 

"I  consent,'7  said  Holden,  "both  out  of  love  to  thee,  and 
because  I  would  not  willingly  leave  a  roof  that  hath  protected 
me,  without  giving  thanks  to  its  owner. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  Mr.  Pownal  returned  with  his  family, 
by  all  of  whom  the  young  man  was  welcomed  with  every  evi 
dence  of  the  warmest  regard.  Holden,  too,  as  the  friend  of  the 
younger  Pownal,  came  in  for  a  share  of  attention.  The  family 
consisted  of  the  father  and  mother,  and  two  children,  a,  boy  and 
girl,  the  former  of  whom  could  not  be  more  than  ten  years  of 
age,  while  the  latter  was  probably  two  years  younger. 

Mr.  Pownal  himself  was  a  fine,  frank,  hearty  gentleman  of 
some  sixty  years,  whose  appearance  indicated  that  the  world 
had  gone  well  with  him,  and  that  he  was  satisfied  with  the 
world.  The  ordinary  expression  of  his  face  was  that  of  quiet 


332  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

contentment,  though  at  times  it  betrayed  a  keen  sagacity  and 
shrewdness,  partly  the  revelation  of  nature,  and  partly  the  pro 
duct  of  an  intimate  intercourse  with  that  world  with  which  his 
business  brought  him,  in  various  ways,  in  contact.  It  was  how 
ever  apparent,  that  however  much  the  associations  and  experi 
ences  of  trade  had  sharpened  his  intellect,  they  had  not  tarnished 
the  natural  goodness  of  his  heart.  That  spoke  in  the  frank 
tones  of  his  manly  voice  and  shone  in  the  light  of  his  clear  blue 
eyes.  One  could  hardly  look  at  him  without  a  conviction  that 
he  was  a  man  to  be  trusted,  and  a  desire  to  grasp  his  hand  in 
friendship.  Holden  felt  the  influence  at  the  introduction,  and  no 
mean  judge  of  character  himself,  was  glad  to  make  the  acquain 
tance. 

Mrs.  Pownal  was  by  several  years  the  junior  of  her  husband, 
and  in  all  respects  different  from  him.  Her  hair  and  eyes  were 
raven-black,  her  complexion  dark  and  saturnine,  and  she  wore 
an  expression  of  care  inconsistent  with  enjoyment.  She  had 
been  for  many  years  a  childless  wife,  and  it  may  be  that  early 
disappointment,  occasioned  by  the  want  of  children,  uniting  with 
a  melancholy  temperament,  had  imparted  an  appearance  of  dejec 
tion  which  the  subsequent  birth  of  a  boy  and  .girl  after  she  had 
given  up  the  expectation  of  offspring,  was  unable  to  remove. 
She  seldom  smiled,  and  when  she  did,  the  smile  played  over  her 
countenance  like  the  sickly  gleain  of  a  wintry  clay  through 
clouds,  and  seemed  rather  to  chill  than  to  warm  what  before 
was  cold.  It  was  a  formal  tribute  to  the  customs  of  society, 
not  the  spontaneous  outburst  of  joy.  She  presented  the  tips  of 
her  fingers  with  all  the  grace  of  an  accomplished  lady,  to  Holden, 
and  meant  that  her  reception  of  him  should  be  kind,  but  the 
hand  was  cold,  and  apparently  as  unfeeling  as  marble,  and  the 
Solitary  dropped  it  as  soon  as  touched.  And  yet  Mrs.  Pownal 
had  feeling. 

The  first  few  days  after  the  return  of  the  Povvnals  was  spent 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  333 

by  them  in  gathering  up  those  threads  of  relationship  by  which 
people  are  connected  with  society.  Even  a  short  absence  from 
home  induces  sometimes  the  necessity  of  paying  and  receiving 
many  visits,  proportioned  to  the  extent  of  the  circle  in  which 
the  parties  move.  The  visiting  circle  of  the  Pownals  was  large, 
and  hence  the  longer  time  was  required.  Besides,  the  business 
pursuits  of  the  merchant  engrossed  some  hours  each  day,  though 
as  the  head  of  a  large  house  in  which  there  were  several 
younger  partners,  he  claimed  and  enjoyed  all  the  leisure  he 
desired.  For  these  reasons  young  Pownal  bad  found  no  fitting 
opportunity  to  speak  in  the  presence  of  Holden  of  the  purpose 
which  brought  the  Solitary  to  the  city,  and  besides,  he  did  not 
wish  to  do  so,  until  the  time  should  arrive  for  his  own  return  to 
Hillsdale,  when  he  hoped,  with  the  assistance  of  his  uncle,  to 
persuade  him  to  return  home.  But  the  business  of  the  young- 
man  was  at  last  completed,  and  he  was  ready  to  retrace  his 
steps. 

It  was  then  one  evening  when  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pownal 
were  present,  and  immediately  preceding  the  day  when  he  had 
announced  his  intention  to  depart,  that  Holdeu,  at  the  solicita 
tion  of  young  Pownal,  supported  by  the  courteous  entreaties  of 
his  uncle,  narrated  the  events  of  his  life,  which  are  already 
known  to  the  reader,  and  avowed  with  that  unshaken  trust  iu 
Providence,  which  in  all  circumstances  sustained  him,  his  resolu 
tion  to  beg  his  way  through  the  world  on  his  sacred  search. 
His  hosts  had  become,  by  this  time,  so  accustomed  to  the  fiery 
enthusiasm  and  antique  diction  of  his  discourse,  that  they  no 
longer  excited  their  surprise,  but  as  he  proceeded  with  his  tale, 
the  attention  of  both  seemed  arrested  by  a  strange  fascination. 
Even  the  figure  of  Mrs.  Pownal  lost  its  listlessness.  Her  black 
eyes  became  riveted  on  the  speaker.  She  bent  forward,  with 
parted  lips,  as  if  unwilling  to  lose  a  word,  while  from  time  to 
time  glauces  of  intelligence  passed  between  the  husband  and 


334  THE      LOST      II  17  X  T  E  it  . 

wife,  which  neither  Pownal  nor  Holden  were  able  to  under 
stand. 

"  Thus  far,"  said  the  enthusiast,  in  conclusion,  "  the  Lord 
hath  led  me  on.  By  flood  and  fire,  and  in  battle  He  hath  pre 
served  a  life,  that  long  was  wearisome  to  me.  But  in  these 
latter  days,  He  hath  awakened  a  new  hope,  and  given  me  an 
assurance  thereof  which  I  can  better  feel  than  tell.  He  hath 
not  prolonged  my  life  for  naught.  Behold,  I  know  assuredly, 
that  the  child  liveth,  and  that  in  my  flesh,  I  shall  see  His  salva 
tion.  Therefore,  in  obedience  to  the  inner  voice,  will  I  gird  up 
my  loins,  and  after  thanking  you  my  friends,  for  the  bread  we 
have  broken  together,  and  the  roof  that  hath  sheltered  the  wan 
derer's  head,  will  I  proceed  upon  my  way." 

He  rose  and  strode  across  the  room,  as  if  to  put  his  design 
into  instant  execution,  but  the  voice  of  the  elder  Pownal  arrest 
ed  him. 

"  Stay,"  he  said,  "and  listen.  Your  steps  have  indeed,  been 
wonderfully  directed.  I  can  give  you,  perhaps,  some  information, 
about  this  John  Johnson,  with  whom  the  boy  was  left." 

Holden  stopped  but  made  no  motion  to  return.  He  seemed 
to  hear  and  understand  the  words,  but  to  be  uncertain  whenco 
they  proceeded.  His  eyes  were  cast  up  and  fixed  on  vacancy. 
At  last  he  said,  still  gazing  in  the  air.  "  Speak  Lord  for  thy 
servant  heareth." 

Mr.  PoVnal  approached,  and  taking  Holden  by  an  arm,  led 
him  gently  to  the  sofa,  and  took  a  seat  by  his  side.  Mrs. 
Powiial  said  not  a  word,  but  threw  her  arms  round  young 
Pownal's  neck,  and  sobbed  upon  his  bosom. 

The  young  mail,  unable  to  divine  a  reason  for  such  unusual 
emotion,  could  only  silently  return  the  caress  and  wait  for  an 
explanation. 

"I  knew  a  person  of  the  name,"  said  Mr.  Pownal,  "but  he 
has  been  dead  many  years." 


r  H  E      LOS  T      H  U  N  T  E  R.  .  335 

"  But  the  child,  but  the  child,"  exclaimed  Holden,  "  he  is  yet 
alive  !" 

"  I  do  not  doubt  he  is  alive,  I  am  confident  we  shall  be  able 
to  discover  him.  Your  trust  in  Providence  is  not  misplaced." 

"  Tell  me,"  cried  Holden,  a  little  sternly,  "  what  thou  kiiowest 
of  the  boy.  My  soul  travaileth  sore,  and  hope  and  doubt  rend 
me  in  twain." 

"  Hold  fast  your  hope  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pownal,  "for  all 
will  yet  be  well.  Prepare  yourself  to  hear  what,  without  pre 
paration,  might  overcome  your  strength." 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Holdeu.  "  Yet  alas  !  who  knoweth  his 
own  heart  ?  But  a  moment  ago,  I  thought  myself  as  an  iron 
mountain,  and  now  am  I  weaker  than  the  untimely  birth." 

"  Eliza,"  said  Mr.  Pownal  turning  to  his  wife,  "  bring  the 
token  you  preserved." 

During  the  absence  of  his  wife,  Mr.  Pownal  endeavored  to 
prepare  the  mind  of  the  Solitary  for  the  joyful  discovery  he  was 
about  to  make.  It  was  now,  too,  that  Holden  perceived,  from 
the  agitation  of  his  feelings,  that  he  was  weak,  like  other  men, 
and  that  with  whatever  hope  and  confidence  and  calmness  he 
might  contemplate  the  prospect  of  distant  happiness,  its  near 
approach  shook  him  like  a  reed.  Mrs.  Pownal  presently  re 
turned,  with  a  coral  necklace  in  her  hand,  and  presented  it  to 
Holden. 

"  Do  you  recognize  it  ?"  she  said. 

He  took  it  into  his  hands,  and  as  if  overcome  by  the  violence 
of  his  emotions,  was  unable  to  speak  a  word.  He  gazed  steadily 
at  it,  his  lips  moved  but  made  no  sound,  and  tears  began  to  fall 
upon  the  faded  coral.  At  last,  with  broken  utterance,  he 
said  : 

"  The  last  time  my  eyes  beheld  these  beads  they  were  upon 
the  neck  of  my  dear  child.  They  were  the  gift  of  his  mother,  and 
she  hung  them  around  his  m-ck.  Examine  the  clasp  and  you  will 


336 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


find  S.  B.,  the  initials  of  her  maiden  name,  engraved  upon  it. 
My  tears  blind  my  sight." 

"They  are,  indeed,  upon  the  clasp,"  said  Mrs.  Pownal,  who 
appeared  to  have  a  greater  control  over  herself  than  her 
husband  over  his  feelings  :  "we  have  often  seen  them,  but  little 
did  we  expect  they  would  ever  contribute  to  the  discovery  of 
the  parentage  of  our  dear  " 

She  turned  to  young  Pownal,  and  threw  her  arms  again 
about  his  neck. 

"  Come  hither,  Thomas,"  said  Mr.  Pownal,  "  the  necklace 
was  taken  from  your  neck.  This  is  your  father.  Mr.  Holden, 
embrace  your  son." 

The  young  man  rushed  to  his  father,  and  threw  himself  at  his 
feet.  Holden  extended  his  hands,  but  the  sudden  revulsion  of 
high  wrought  feeling  was  more  than  he  could  bear.  The  color 
fled  face  and  lips,  and  he  fell  forward  insensible  into  the  arms  of 
his  long  lost  son. 

"  I  feared  it  would  be  so,"  said  Mr.  Pownal  ;  u  but  joy 
seldom  kills.  See,"  he  added,  after  Mrs.  Pownal  had  sprinkled 
some  water  in  the  face  of  the  gasping  man,  "  he  is  recovering. 
He  will  soon  be  himself  again." 

Restored  to  consciousness,  Holden  clasped  his  recovered  son 
to  his  bosom,  and  kissed  his  cheeks,  while  the  young  man 
returned  with  warmth  his  demonstrations  of  affection.  Pownal, 
we  have  seen,  had  been  from  the  first  attracted  to  the  Solitary, 
either  by  the  noble  qualities  he  discovered  in  him,  or  from  the 
interest  he  felt  in  his  romantic  mode  of  life,  or  from  that  mys 
terious  sympathy  of  consanguinity,  the  existence  of  which  is 
asserted  by  some,  and  denied  by  others.  He  was,  therefore, 
prepared  to  receive  with  pleasure  the  relationship.  Besides,  it 
was  a  satisfaction  to  find  his  father  in  one,  who,  however  poor  his 
worldly  circumstances,  and  whatever  his  eccentricities,  was  evi 
dently  a  man  of  education  and  noble  mind.  For  the  young  man 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  337 

was  himself  a  nobleman  of  nature,  who  had  inherited  some  of 
the  romance  of  his  father,  and,  indeed,  in  whom  were  slumbering, 
unconsciously  to  himself,  many  traits  of  character  like  those  of 
the  father,  and  which  needed  only  opportunity  to  be  developed. 

The  first  words  Holderi  uttered,  after  recovering  from  his 
emotion  sufficiently  to  speak,  were  : 

"  Lord  !  now  let  thou  thy  servant  depart,  for  mine  eyes  have 
seen  thy  salvation." 

"  Do  not  talk  of  departing,"  said  Mr.  Pownal.  "  It  seems  to 
me  now  is  the  very  time  to  stay.  Many  years  of  happiness  are 
in  store  for  you." 

"  But,"  said  Holden,  "  tell  me,  thou  who  hast  conferred  an 
obligation  that  can  never  be  repaid,  and  restored  as  it  were  the 
dead  to  life,  how  didst  thou  become  the  preserver  of  my  child  ?" 

But  a  few  words  are  necessary  to  answer  Holden's  questions. 
As  the  happy  father  sat  with  his  arm  over  his  son's  neck,  Mr. 
Pownal  related  the  following  particulars. 

"  The  John  Johnson,  of  whom  Esther  the  squaw  told  you,"  said 
Mr.  Pownal,  "  was  some  nineteen  or  twenty  years  ago  a  porter 
in  the  employ  of  our  house.  He  was  an  honest,  industrious  man, 
who  remained  in  our  service  until  his  death,  which  happened  two 
or  three  years  after  the  event  I  am  about  to  relate,  and  enjoyed 
our  confidence  to  the  last.  It  was  in  the  Spring — the  month  I 
do  not  recollect — when  he  came  to  the  counting-room  and 
desired  to  speak  with  me  in  private.  He  told  me  that  on  the 
previous  evening  he  had  found  a  child,  dressed  in  rags,  asleep 
upon  the  steps  of  his  house,  and  that  to  preserve  it  from  perish 
ing  he  had  taken  it  in.  His  own  family  was  large,  and  he  was 
a  poor  man,  else  he  would  willingly  keep  it.  He  knew  not 
exactly  what  to  do,  and  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  consulting  me 
when  in  any  difficulty,  he  thought  he  had  better  do  so  now.  It 
was  a  pretty  lively  little  boy,  but  so  young  that  though  begin 
ning  to  speak  it  was  unable  to  give  any  account  of  itself. 

15 


338  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

"While  Johnson  was  speaking  a  plan  came  into  my  mind, 
which  I  had  thought  of  before,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  child  were 
providentially  sent  in  order  to  enable  me  to  accomplish  it.  The 
truth  is,  that  I  had  been  married  for  several  years,  and  the 
merry  voice  of  no  child  of  my  own  had  gladdened  my  home  and 
I  had  given  up  the  expectation  of  children.  Loving  them  dearly, 
it  occurred  to  me  to  adopt  some  child,  and  rear  it  as  my  own. 
The  feelings  of  Mrs.  Pownal  were  the  same  as  mine,  and  we 
had  often  talked  over  the  subject  together,  but  one  circumstance 
and  another,  I  can  hardly  tell  what  they  were,  had  postponed 
the  execution  of  our  purpose  from  day  to  day.  I  therefore  said 
to  Johnson  that  I  would  attend  him  home  and  see  the  child, 
after  which  I  should  be  better  able  to  give  him  advice.  Accord 
ingly  we  went  together  to  his  house,  which  I  recollect  was  the 
very  one  you  described  as  having  visited  in  your  search  in 
William  street.  There  I  found  the  little  waif,  a  bright  eyed 
boy  of  some  three  or  four  years  of  age,  though  his  cheeks  were 
pale  and  thin,  as  if  he  had  already  known  some  suffering.  He 
wore  around  his  neck  the  coral  beads  you  have  in  your  hand, 
which  seemed  to  me  at  the  time  to  have  been  left  in  order  to 
facilitate  a  recognition.  The  appealing  look  and  sweet  smile 
with  which  he  gazed  into  my  eyes,  as  if  demanding  protection, 
was,  in  the  condition  of  my  feelings,  more  than  I  could  withstand, 
and  I  took  him  home  and  gave  him  to  my  wife.  She  seemed 
equally  pleased  with  myself,  and  for  a  time  we  reared  him  as  a 
child  of  our  own.  Richly  has  he  repaid  our  love,  and  you  may 
well  be  proud  of  such  a  son.  But  some  ten  years  afterwards, 
to  our  surprise,  for  we  had  given  up  all  hope  of  such  a  blessing, 
Heaven  gave  us  a  son,  and  two  years  after  that  a  daughter. 
The  birth  of  the  children  altered,  in  some  respects,  our  calcula 
tions,  and  T  thought  it  necessary  to  communicate  to  Thomas  the 
fact  that  he  was  not  my  son,  but  promising  that  he  should  ever 
be  to  me  as  one,  and  leaving  it  to  be  inferred  from  the  identity 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  339 

of  name,  for  I  had  given  him  my  own,  that  he  was  a  relative. 
He  has  more  than  once  endeavored  to  penetrate  the  mystery, 
but  I  have  always  shrunk  from  revealing  it,  although  determined 
that  at  some  time  or  another  he  should  be  made  acquainted  with 
it,  and  with  that  view,  to  guard  against  the  contingencies  of 
sudden  death,  prepared  a  narrative  of  the  events  I  am  relating, 
which  is  at  this  moment  in  my  desk  addressed  to  him.  Mr. 
Holden,"  concluded  Mr.  Pownal,  and  his  voice  choked  for  an 
instant,  "I  can  wish  you  no  higher  good  fortune  than  that  the 
youth,  who,  if  not  the  offspring  of  my  loins,  is  the  son  of  my 
affection,  may  be  to  you  a  source  of  as  much  happiness  as  he 
has  been  to  me." 

Moved  to  tears  the  young  man  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of 
his  benefactor,  and  in  broken  words  murmured  his  gratitude. 

"  Ah  !"  cried  he,  "  you  were  always  so  indulgent  and  so 
kind,  dear  sir  !  Had  it  not  been  for  you,  what  should  I  have 
been  to  day  ?" 

"  Nay,  Thomas,"  said  Mr.  Pownal,  "  you  have  conferred  a 
benefit  greater  than  you  received.  You  filled  a  void  in  hearts 
that  were  aching  for  an  object  of  parental  love,  and  for  years 
were  the  solitary  beam  of  sunshine  in  a  household  that  would 
else  have  been  desolate  and  dark.  And  had  I  not  interposed, 
other  means  would  have  been  found  to  restore  you  to  your 
proper  sphere.  There  is  that  in  you,  my  son — let  me  still  call 
you  by  the  dear  mme — that  under  any  circumstances  would 
have  forced  its  way,  and  elevated  you  from  darkness  into  light, 
from  obscurity  into  distinction." 

Young  Pownal  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  carpet,  and  blushed 
like  a  girl  at  the  recital  of  his  praises.  No  words  came  to  his 
assistance,  but  the  deep  voice  of  his  father  relieved  him  from  his 
embarrassment. 

"  It  may  be  true  what  thou  sayest,  angel  of  the  Lord,"  he 
said,  addressing  Mr.  Pownal,  "  thou  who  hast  been  even  as  a 


340  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

cloud  by  day,  and  a  pillar  of  fire  by  night,  to  guide  the  lad 
through  the  wilderness  of  the  world,  but  not  the  less  are  our 
thanks  and  eternal  gratitude  due  to  thee  as  the  chosen  instru 
ment  to  accomplish  His  will.  May  the  blessing  of  the  Lord 
God  of  Abraham,  Isaac  and  Jacob,  of  Him  who  called  unto 
Moses  out  of  the  burning  bush,  of  Him  who  is  the  root  and  the 
offspring  of  David,  the  bright  and  morning  Star,  rest  and  abide 
with  thee  and  thy  house  for  ever.  And  thou,  madam,"  he  added, 
approaching  Mrs.  Pownal  with  a  dignity  and  grace  that  caused 
his  singular  appearance  to  be  quite  overlooked,  "  how  shall  he, 
who  is  an  outcast  no  longer,  thank  thee  ?"  He  pressed  his 
hand  upon  his  heart,  as  if  to  restrain  its  beating,  then  bending 
over  and  ta.king  her  hand  into  his  own,  kissed  it  with  the 
devotion  of  a  devotee.  "  Blessed  be  thou  above  women.  The 
Lord  hear  thee  in  the  day  of  trouble,  and  fulfill  all  thy  desire. 
Thou  didst  pity  and  shalt  be  pitied  :  thou  wast  merciful  and 
shalt  receive  mercy.  '  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  the  least  of 
these  little  ones,  ye  did  it  unto  me/  saith  Christ." 

"  We  are  abundantly  compensated,  Mr.  Holden,"  observed 
Mrs.  Pownal,  feeling  it  incumbent  to  say  something,  and  yet  at 
a  loss  what  to  say.  "  Mr.  Pownal  has  expressed  my  feelings 
better  than  I  can  myself.  But,  Thomas,  you  shall  still  be  our 
son,  for  all  these  disclosures." 

"  Mother  !  mother  I"  cried  Pownal,  kneeling  by  her  side,  and 
kissing  the  lips  she  offered  to  his,  "you  shall  always  be  my  dear 
mother,  as  long  as  you  permit  me  to  call  you  so.  Oh,  how 
little  have  I  known  how  much  I  was  indebted  to  you,  and  my 
second  father.  I  have  Breamed  and  wondered,  but  the  imagi 
nation  still  fell  short  of  the  truth." 

"  Thou  hast  received  an  obligation,  my  sou,"  said  Holden, 
"  which  all  thy  love  and  devotedness  can  never  repay,  and  the 
claims  of  thy  parents  by  kindness  are'  stronger  than  mine.  To 
me  thou  owest  life,  to  them  its  preservation  and  honorable  sta- 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  34 1 

tion.  Thou  wilt  give  me  the  love  thou  hast  to  spare,  but  to 
them  belongs  the  greater  portion." 

"  We  will  be  content  with  equal  parts,"  said  Mr.  Pownal, 
smiling.  "In  this  partnership  of  affection  none  must  claim  a 
superior  share." 

"  Strange  !"  exclaimed  Holden,  fastening  his  eyes  on  his  son, 
and  speaking,  as  was  his  wont  sometimes,  as  to  himself,  "  that 
the  full  truth  broke  not  on  me  before.  The  heart  yearned  to 
him,  he  was  as  a  bright  star  to  me  ;  his  voice  was  the  music  of 
the  forest  to  my  ears  ;  his  eyes  were  as  a  sweet  dream,  a 
vanished  happiness,  but  I  understood  not.  It  is  plain  now.  It 
was  the  voice  of  my  Sarah  I  heard  :  they  were  her  eyes  that 
looked  into  my  heart  through  his.  And  was  it  not  thy  prompt 
ing,  mysterious  Nature,  that  inclined  him  to  me  ?  Was  there 
not  a  dim  revelation,  that  I  was  more  to  him  than  other  men  ? 
Else  why  delighted  he  in  the  society  of  a  lone,  wayward  man 
like  me  ?  Lord  God  Almighty,  no  man  knoweth  the  ordinances 
of  heaven,  nor  can  he  set  the  dominion  thereof  upon  the 
earth  !» 


T  Ji  r.    i,  0  sf    ii  r  N  T  ER. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

Welcome  pure  thoughts,  welcome  ye  silent  groves. 
These  guests,  these  courts  my  soul  most  dearly  loves: 
Now  the  winged  people  of  the  sky  shall  sing 
My  cheerful  anthems  to  the  gladsome  spring. 

QUOTED  BY  IZAAK  WALTON,  AS  BY  SIR  HARRY  WOTTOK. 

No  reason  seemed  now  to  exist  for  Holden's  impatience  to 
depart,  yet  he  longed  for  the  quiet  of  his  hut  on  the  island. 
The  excitement  of  his  feelings,  which,  while  it  acted  as  a  stimu 
lus,  sustained  him,  had  passed  away,  and  the  ordinary  conse 
quences  of  overtasking  nature  followed.  Besides,  he  had  lived 
so  long  in  solitude,  that  any  other  mode  of  life  was  to  him 
unnatural,  and  especially  the  roar  and  tumult  of  a  populous 
place,  disturbed  him.  The  loudest  sounds  to  which  he  had 
been  accustomed  were  the  rippling  of  the  tide  on  the  beach,  or 
the  sigh  of  the  wind,  and  the  songs  of  birds  ;  and  the  difference 
between  them  and  the  noises  he  now  heard,  formed  a  contrast 
equally  harsh  and  discordant.  But  by  no  word  did  he  betray 
his  wish.  Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pownal  were  desirous  to  delay 
the  departure  of  himself  and  son,  and  it  seemed  to  him  ingrati 
tude  to  act  in  any  respect  in  opposition  to  the  inclinations  of 
persons  to  whom  he  was  so  greatly  indebted.  Several  days, 
therefore,  passed  after  the  happening  of  the  events  recapitulated 
in  the  last  chapter,  and  yet  he  remained  in  New  York.  But  his 
feelings  could  not  escape  the  observation  of  his  son.  Better 
acquainted  than  their  host  and  hostess  with  the  peculiarities  of 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  343 

his  father,  he  seized  an  opportunity  to  speak  of  the  necessity  of 
a  speedy  farewell. 

"  You  are  right,  I  do  not  doubt,  Thomas,"  said  Mr.  Pownal, 
in  reply  to  the  observation  of  the  young  man,  "  and  yet  I  never 
felt  so  loth  to  let  you  go.  While  with  me  you  seem  still  in  some 
wise  to  belong  to  me,  and  1  feel  a  reluctance  to  lose  you  out  of 
my  sight." 

"Do  you  think  it  possible,"  exclaimed  young  Pownal — 
whom  his  father,  out  of  a  sentiment  of  delicacy  towards  his 
friends,  had  insisted  should  be  called  by  the  name  x)f  his  pre 
server,  he  had  so  long  borne,  for  which  reason  we  shall  continue 
to  use  it — "do  you  think  it  possible  I  can  ever  forget  how 
deeply  I  am  indebted,  that  I  shall  ever  cease  to  love  you  with 
all  the  affection  of  a  sou,  on  whom  you  have  lavished  every 
possible  kindness  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  have  no  fear  of  .that.  It  is  only  the  pain  of  parting 
from  which  I  shrink.  As  we  grow  older  we  cling  with  the 
greater  tenacity,  and,  perhaps,  selfishness,  to  the  enjoyments 
that  are  left.  But  this  will  never  do.  I  must  think  more  of 
you,  and  less  of  myself.  I  have  some  questions  to  ask,  and 
something  besides  to  say  before  you  leave  for  Hillsdale,  and 
this  is  as  good  an  opportunity,  probably,  as  we  shall  have,  so 
take  a  seat  by  me,  and  we  will  enter  upon  business." 

Pownal,  who  hitherto  had  remained  standing,  now  took  a  seat 
by  the  side  of  his  benefactor,  and  waited  for  him  to  continue  the 
conversation. 

"  Are  you  satisfied,"  inquired  Mr.  Pownal,  "  with  your  situa 
tion  at  Hillsdale  ?" 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  the  young  man.  "  My  time  has  passed 
very  happily  there." 

"  I  meant  it,"  continued  Mr.  Pownal,  "only  as  an  interlude. 
I  sent  you  thither  for  the  purpose  of  making  you  better 
acquainted  with  the  branches  of  our  business,  intending  to 


344 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


leave  it  to  your  choice  either  to  remain  or  return  to  the  city, 
and  resume  your  place  in  the  counting-house.  I  confess,  the 
latter  would  suit  me  better,  because  you  would  be  nearer  to  me; 
but  consult  your  inclinations,  and  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Pownal,  with  some  little  hesitation,  "you 
are  always  kind,  and  since  you  leave  it  to  my  choice,  I  hope  ifc 
will  not  offend  you  if  I  say,  that  for  the  present  I  should  prefer 
to  remain  at  Hillsdale." 

"It  is  not  at  all  surprising  that  you  should  wish  to  be  with 
your  father,  whom,  in  so  wonderful  a  manner,  you  have  dis 
covered,"  answered  Mr.  Pownal.  "I  am  delighted  with  him, 
and  his  noble  qualities  must  be  restored  to  the  world.  We 
must  find  means  to  induce  him  to  conquer  his  repugnance  to 
society  and  its  habits." 

"I  hope  for  such  a  result,"  said  the  young  man,  "but  he  is 
evidently  now  uneasy  and  pining  for  solitude." 

'  Time  and  I  against  any  two/  says  the  Spanish  proverb. 
I'll  be  bound  we  will  metamorphose  him  yet.  Do  you  think  the 
business  at  Hillsdale  is  capable  of  much  extension  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  It  may  easily  be  doubled,  and  safely.  I 
will  give  you  my  reasons  for  the  opinion  now,  if  you  wish." 

"  Never  mind  for  the  present.  It  after  all  can  make  no  diffe 
rence  in  what  I  am  about  to  say.  I  have  been  looking  at  your 
balance-sheet,  and  must  say  that,  for  a  first  year's  business,  you 
have  done  remarkably  well  You  have  made  very  few  bad 
debts,  the  sales  are  large,  and  profits  satisfactory.  You  have 
the  merchant  in  you,  Thomas,  and  I  must  try  to  secure  you  for 
us  beyond  the  power  of  loss.  How  would  you  like  to  become  a 
member  of  the  firm  ?" 

"Sir,"  said  Pownal,  "your  goodness  overpowers  me.  No 
father  could  be  more  generous.  You  will  do  with  me  as  you 
please.  But  what  say  your  partners  ?" 

"I  have   consulted   with   them,  and   they  are  of  the  same 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  345 

opinion  as  myself,  and  desire  your  admission.  I  have  drawn  up 
the  terms,  which,  I  hope,  will  please  you,  on  this  slip  of  paper, 
and  that  you  may  start  to  a  little  better  advantage,  have 
directed  a  small  sum  to  be  carried  to  your  credit  on  the  books, 
which  you  will  also  find  jotted  down  on  the  paper." 

"  How  can  I  thank  you,  sir  ?"  said  Pownal,  receiving  the 
paper,  and  preparing,  without  examining  it,  to  place  it  in  his 
pocket. 

"  But  that  is  not  like  a  merchant,"  exclaimed.  Mr.  Pownal 
smiling,  "to  accept  of^a  contract  without  looking  at  it.  Read 
it,  Thomas,  and  see  if  you  wish  to  suggest  any  change." 

"  I  am  willing  to  trust  my  interests,  my  life,  to  you,  sir,  and 
it  is  unnecessary.  But  it  is  your  command  and  I  obey  you." 

We  must  allow,  that  the  thought  of  becoming  at  some  time  a 
member  of  the  firm,  wherein  he  had  received  his  mercantile 
education,  had  passed  before  through  the  mind  of  Pownal,  but 
the  conditions  upon  which  he  was  now  admitted  were  favorable 
beyond  his  most  sanguine  expectations.  The  sum  of  money,  too, 
carried  to  the  credit  of  his  account  as  a  capital,  on  which  to 
commence,  deserved  a  better  name  than  that  of  a  small  sum, 
which  the  opulent  merchant  had  called  it.  Pownal  saw  himself 
now  at  once  elevated  into  a  condition,  not  only  to  supply  the 
wants  of  his  father  and  himself,  but  to  warrant  him  to  cherish 
hopes  for  the  success  of  other  plans  that  lay. very  near  his  heart. 
As  the  thought  of  Anne  Bernard  occurred  to  him,  and  he 
reflected  upon  the  goodness  of  his  generous  benefactor,  it  seemed, 
to  his  ingenuous  mind,  as  if  he  were  half  guilty  of  a  wrong  in 
withholding  any  part  of  his  confidence  from  Mr.  Pownal,  and  he 
felt  strongly  tempted  to  admit  him  into  the  inner  sanctuary  of 
his  soul.  But  a  feeling  natural  in  such  cases,  and  the  considera 
tion  that  he  was  not  perfectly  sure  his  affection  was  returned  by 
Anne,  restrained  him,  and  he  contented  himself  with  repeating 
his  thanks  for  a  generosity  so  much  exceeding  his  hopes. 

15* 


346  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"Nay,"  said  the  merchant,  "I  must  be  the  judge  of  these 
things.  This  may  do  to  begin  with.  When  you  are  married  I 
will  double  it." 

The  tell-tale  cheeks  of  Pownal  excited  the  suspicions  of  the 
old  gentleman,  whose  eyes  were  fastened  on  him  as  he  spoke. 

"  Ah,  ha!"  cried  he,  laughing,  "have  I  found  you  out,  Thomas? 
I  do  not  believe,  on  the  whole,  the  bribe  will  be  necessary.  I 
understand  now  your  enthusiasm  about  the  beauties  of  Hillsdale. 
But  never  blush.  There's  no  harm  in  possessing  good  taste  I 
was  in  love  twenty  times  before  I  was  your  age.  When  shall 
the  wedding  be,  eh  ?" 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Pownal  smiling,  "it  will  be  time  enough 
years  hence,  to  think  of  these  things.  In  a  matter  of  this  kind, 
I  know  of  no  better  example  to  follow,  than  your  own." 

"  No,  no,  no,  Thomas,  do  not  imitate  me  there  ;  I  postponed 
my  happiness  too  long,  and  were  I  to  commence  life  again,  I 
should  not  crawl  with  such  a  snail's  pace  towards  it  as  formerly. 
But  I  have  no  fear  of  you  or  that  my  joints  will  be  too  stiff  to 
dance  on  the  joyful  occasion." 

The  parting  was  such  as  might  be  expected  between  persons 
brought  together  under  circumstances  so  singular,  where  on  the 
one  side  there  was  a  sense  of  obligation,  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
cherish,  and  on  the  other,  the  yet  higher  gratification  of  confer 
ring  happiness.  As  Holden  wrung  the  hand  of  Mr.  Pownal  who 
accompanied  them  to  the  vessel,  that  was  to  take  them  home,  he 
invoked,  in  his  enthusiastic  way,  a  blessing  upon  his  head.  The 
Almighty  bless  thee,"  he  exclaimed,  "  with  blessings  of  Heaven 
above,  and  blessings  of  the  deep  that  lieth  under.  May  thy 
bow  abide  in  strength,  and  the  arms  of  thy  hands  be  made  strong 
by  the  hands  of  the  mighty  God  of  Jacob." 

Knowing  how  little  his  father  prized  the  things  of  this  world. 
Pownal  had  not  communicated  to  him  before  their  departure  the 
liberal  conduct  of  the  noble  merchant  they  had  just  left,  but  now, 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  341 

in  a  conversation  one  day,  in  which  they  reviewed  the  past,  and, 
notwithstanding  the  Solitary's  faith  in  the  speedy  coming  of  a 
mighty  change,  speculated  on  the  future,  he  disclosed  the  last 
evidence  of  the  affection  of  his  preserver.  Holden  listened  with 
a  gratified  air,  for  how  could  he  be  otherwise  than  pleased  that 
the  worth  and  amiable  qualities  of  his  son,  had  awakened  so 
deep  an  interest  in  the  heart  of  another,  but  replied, 

"  It  was  well  meant,  but  unnecessary.  Thou  hast  no  need  of 
the  gold  and  silver  of  others." 

The  young  man,  supposing  his  father  had  reference  to  his 
peculiar  religious  notions,  was  silent,  for  it  was  a  subject  which 
could  not  be  adverted  to  without  great  delicacy,  and  danger  of 
vehement  bursts  of  enthusiasm. 

"Thou  comprehendest  me  not,"  said  Holden.  "I  say  thou 
art  in  no  want  of  the  dross  with  which  men  buy,  to  their  grief 
and  shame,  the  deluding-  vanities  of  the  world." 

"  If  it  is  your  wish,  father,  I  will  return  the  gift,"  said  Pownal, 
*'  though  I  know  it  will  hurt  the  generous  heart  of  the  giver." 

"  I  interpose  not.  No  voice  calleth  me  thereto.  But  my 
meaning  is  still  dark,  and  I  know  not  whether  it  is  best  to  admit 
thee  fully  to  my  counsels.  Yet,  thus  much  mayest  thou  now 
know,  and  more  shalt  thou  know  hereafter,  that  thy  father  is 
no  pauper,  to  crave  the  wealth  of  others,  and  that  his  poverty  is 
voluntary.  The  body  is  kept  poor,  that  divine  grace  may  the 
more  readily  enrich  the  soul." 

"  Believe  me,  sir,  I  do  not  wish  to  intrude  into  anything 
which  it  is  your  desire  to  keep  secret." 

"  There  is  nothing  secret  that  shall  not  be  revealed,"  exclaim 
ed  Holden,  catching  at  the  last  word,  "  but  everything  in  its 
own  order.  Let  it  satisfy  thee,  therefore,  my  son,  to  know  for 
the  present  that  thy  father  hath  but  to  stretch  forth  his  hand 
and  it  shall  be  filled,  .but  to  knock  arid  it  shall  be  opened. 
But  this  is  not,  the  rlav,  nor  for  mv  own  sake,  should  the  clock 


348  THE     L  0  S  T     HUNTER. 

of  time  ever  strike  the  hour,  when  that  which  was  thrown  away 
shall  be  taken  again,  that  which  was  despised  shall  be  valued. 
Yet  because  of  thee  may  I  not  lawfully  withhold  the  hand,  and  as 
I  gaze  upon  thy  fair  young  face,  thou  seemest  one  whose  spirit 
is  so  balanced  that  what  men  call  prosperity  will  not  hurt  thee. 
But  affection  is  blind,  and  my  heart  may  deceive  me,  and  there 
fore  will  I  wait  until  He  speaks  who  cannot  lead  astray  or 
deceive." 

It  was  partly  to  himself,  and  partly  to  his  son,  that  the 
Solitary  spoke,  nor  was  Pownal  at  all  certain  that  he  compre 
hended  his  meaning.  He  had  at  first  fancied,  his  father  was 
offended  at  his  acceptance  of  the  rich  merchant's  bounty,  but  he 
soon  saw  that  Holden  regarded  money  too  little  to  consider  the 
mere  giving  or  receiving  of  it  as  of  much  consequence.  Upon 
further  reflection,  and  a  consideration  of  the  manner  in  which 
his  father  had  lived  for  so  many  years,  the  idea  which  yet  seemed 
shadowed  forth  by  his  language,  that  he  was  possessed  of  pro 
perty,  appeared  utterly  chimerical.  He  was  therefore  disposed 
to  attach  to  his  father's  words  some  mystical  sense,  or  to  suppose 
that  he  imagined  himself  in  possession  of  a  secret,  by  mea'ns  of 
which  he  could  command  the  wealth  he  scorned.  Of  course  the 
young  man  considered  such  anticipations  as  visionary  as  the 
immediate  coming  of  that  millenium  for  which  the  longing  eyes 
of  the  enthusiast  daily  looked  forth. 


THE     LOST     HlTNTE.R.  349 


XXXIII. 


From  yon  blue  heavens,  above  us  bent, 

The  gard'ner  Adam  and  his  wife 
Smile  at  the  claims  of  long  descent  : 

Howe'er  it  be,  it  seems  to  me, 

'Tis  only  noble  to  be  good  ; 
Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 

And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood. 

TENNYSON. 

THE  news  of  the  discovery  of  the  relationship  between  Hoi- 
den  and  Pownal  had  reached  Hillsdale  before  their  arrival,  and 
the  friends  and  acquaintances  of  both,  comprising  pretty  much 
the  whole  village,  hastened  to  present  their  congratulations. 
Many  supposed  now  they  had  obtained  a  clue  to  the  singulari 
ties  of  the  Solitary,  and  expected  that  since  he  had  recovered 
his  son,  he  would  resume  the  habits  of  ordinary  life.  But  nothing 
seemed  further  from  Holden's  intention.  In  spite  of  the  entreat 
ies  of  his  son,  and  the  remonstrances  of  those  few  who  ventured 
to  speak  to  him  on  the  subject,  he  returned  on  the  very  day  of 
their  arrival  to  his  cabin.  It  was,  however,  with  no  harshness, 
but  with  gentle  and  even  exculpatory  language,  he  refused  their 
request. 

"  Think  not  hard  of  me,  my  son,  nor  you,  kind  friends,"  he 
said,  "if  my  ears  are  deaf  to  your  solicitations.  The  old  man 
is  weary  and  seeketh  rest.  The  trembling  nerves  still  quiver  to 
the  cries  of  the  horsemen  and  the  rattling  of  chariots,  nor 
may  the  tumult  pass  away  till  old  sights  and  sounds  stealing  in 
with  soft  ministry  compose  the  excited  yet  not  unpleased  spirit. 


350  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

I  would  gladly  in  solitude  lay  my  tired  head  on  the  bosom  of  the 
Father,  and  thank  Him  in  the  silence  of  His  works  for  mercies 
exceeding  thought." 

Holden,  however,  could  not  refuse  to  allow  his  son  to  accom 
pany  him,  and  to  provide  such  little  necessaries,  as  were  esteemed 
essential  to  his  comfort.  But  he  permitted  the  young  man  to 
remain  only  a  short  time.  "  Go,"  he  said,  "  the  world  is  bright 
before  thee  ;  enjoy  its  transient  sunshine.  The  time  may  come 
when  even  thou,  with  hope  and  confidence  in  thy  heart,  and 
heaven  in  thine  eyes,  shalt  say,  '  I  have  no  pleasure  therein.' " 
Pownal  therefore  returned  to  Hillsdale,  without  reluctance  it 
may  be  supposed,  when  we  add,  that  the  same  evening  found 
him  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Bernard.  It  will  be  recollected  he 
had  commissions  to  execute  for  both  the  Judge  and  his  wife, 
but  if  the  reader  thinks  that  not  a  sufficient  reason  why  he 
should  call  upon  them  so  soon,  we  have  no  objection  to  his 
adopting  any  other  conjecture,  even  to  the  extravagant  supposi 
tion,  that  there  was  some  magnet  to  attract  the  young  man's 
wandering  feet. 

It  was  a  happy  evening  Pownal  spent  at  the  Judge's  house. 
All  seemed  glad  to  see  him  again,  and  expressed  their  delight 
and  wonder  at  the  discovery  of  his  parent.  And  yet  the  young 
man  could  not  help  fancying  there  was  a  greater  difference 
between  his  reception  by  the  members  of  the  family,  than  he 
had  been  accustomed  to.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bernard,  indeed,  were 
equally  cordial  as  of  old,  but  Anne,  though  she  tendered  him  her 
hand  with  her  usual  frankness,  and  allowed  it  to  linger  in  his, 
appeared  graver,  and  less  disposed  to  indulge  an  exuberance  of 
spirits,  while  William  Bernard  was  evidently  more  distant,  and 
formal.  There  was.  however,  no  want  of  politeness  on  his  part, 
for  he  mingled  with  his  usual  grace  and  intelligence  in  the  con 
versation,  and  the  change  was  perceptible  rather  in  the  omission 
of  old  terms  of  familiarity,  than  in  any  manifestation  of  cold- 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  351 

ness.  He  seemed  to  pay  the  same  attention,  and  evince  a  like 
interest  with  the  rest,  in  the  particulars  of  the  adventures  of 
Pownal,  which,  at  the  request  of  Mrs.  Bernard,  he  narrated. 
Had  a  stranger,  or  one  who  saw  the  two  young  men  together 
for  the  first  time,  been  present,  he  would  have  noticed  nothing 
inconsistent  with  ordinary  friendship,  but  Pownal  compared  the 
present  with  the  past,  and  his  jealous  sensitiveness  detected  a 
something  wanting.  But  for  all  that,  his  enjoyment,  though  it 
might  be  lessened,  was  not,  as  we  have  intimated,  destroyed. 
He  half  suspected  the  cause,  and  his  proud  spirit  rose  with 
resentment.  But  so  long  as  he  enjoyed  the  esteem  of  the 
.parents,  and  was  a  welcome  visitor  at  their  house,  and  Miss 
Bernard  treated  him  with  unabated  regard,  he  could  well  afford, 
he  thought,  to  pass  by  without  notice  humors,  which,  in  his 
changed  condition,  he  considered  equally  unreasonable  and 
absurd.  For,  he  was  no  longer  a  mere  clerk,  without  position 
in  society,  but  the  member  of  a  long-established  and  wealthy 
firm,  and  a  favorite  of  its  head,  who  seemed  to  have  taken  the 
fortunes  of  his  young  partner  into  his  own  hands,  with  a  deter 
mination  to  secure  their  success.  True,  he  was  the  son  of  a 
poor  and  eccentric  man,  but  no  dishonor  was  attached  to  his 
father's  name,  and  so  far  as  education  and  genuine  refinement 
were  concerned,  he  was  the  equal  of  any,  and  the  superior  of 
most,  by  whom  he  was  surrounded.  With  far  different  feelings, 
therefore,  from  those  in  the  earlier  period  of  his  acquaintance 
with  Miss  Bernard,  when  he  discovered  she  was  becoming 
dearer  to  him  than  prudence  permitted,  did  he  now  approach 
her.  He  dared  to  look  forward  to  the  time  when  it  would  be 
no  presumption  to  avow  his  feelings. 

The  cause  of  William  Bernard's  coldness  will  be  better  under 
stood  by  a  reference  to  a  conversation  between  him  and  his  sis 
ter,  shortly  before  the  return  of  Pownal  to  Hillsdale.  Rumor, 
with  her  thousand  tongues,  had  been  busy,  and,  as  is  not  unu- 


352 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


sual  on  such  occasions,  embellished  the  story  with  innumerable 
fanciful  ornaments.  The  brother  and  sister  had  both  heard  the 
reports,  and  they  were  the  subject  of  their  discussion. 

"  Why,  Anne  !"  said  William,  « this  is  more  wonderful  than 
Robinson  Crusoe,  or  the  Children  of  the  Abbey.  How  do  you 
think  Pownal,  or  Mr.  Holden,  as  I  suppose  we  must  call  him 
now,  relishes  the  relationship  ?" 

"  How,  William,  can  he  be  otherwise  than  glad  to  find  a 
father  ?"  replied  his  sister. 

"  A  vast  deal  depends  upon  who  the  father  is." 
"  What  !  is  it  you  who  speak  so  ?"  cried  Anne,  with  spark 
ling  eyes.     "  What  is  there  in  the  father  unworthy  of  the  son  ?" 
"  Were  I  now  in  Pownal's  place,  I  should  have  preferred  to 
discover  a  parent  in  some  one  else  than  in  a  half  crazy  man,  who 
supports  himself  by  basket-making." 

"  And  can  you  not,"  said  his  sister,  indignantly,  "  under  the 
mask  which  circumstances  have  imposed  upon  him,  detect  the 
noble-hearted  gentleman  ?  This  is  not  at  all  like  you,  William, 
and  I  think  his  very  misfortunes  ought  to  be  a  passport  to  your 
kindness." 

"So  they  should  be,  and  so  they  are,  but  the  facts,  which  I 
will  not  repeat,  because  it  offends  you,  remain.  Think  you,  it 
can  be  very  pleasant,  for  a  young  man,  to  have  precisely—pre 
cisely  such  a  connection  ?" 

"I  should  despise  Thomas  Pownal,  if  he  felt  anything  but 
pride  in  his  father.  I  am  the  daughter  of  a  republican,  and 
care  little  for  the  distinctions  which  the  tailor  makes.  '  The 
noblest  hearts  are  not  always  those  which  beat  under  the  finest 
broadcloth." 

"  The  rank  is  but  the  guinea  stamp, 
The  man's  the  gowd  for  a'  that." 

"  Well,  Anne,"  said  her  brother,  "  I  never  expected  to  take 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  353 

a  lesson,  in  democracy,  from  you,  nor  fancied  yon  were  a  politi 
cian  before  ;  -but,  it  seems  to  me  you  have  become  lately  very 
sharp-sighted,  to  detect  Holden's  merits.  What  is  it  that  has 
so  improved  your  vision  ?" 

"  You  are  trying  to  tease  me,  now,  but  I  will  not  be  angry. 
You  know,  as  well  as  I  do,  that  from  the  first  I  took  a  liking  to 
Mr.  Holden.  So  far  from  being  frightened  at  him,  when  I  was 
a  child,  nothing  pleased  me  better  that  when  he  took  Faith  and 
me  into  his  arms,  and  told  us  stories  out  of  the  Bible.  I  do 
believe  I  had  then  a  presentiment  he  was  something  different 
from  what  he  seemed." 

"  But  you  have  shown  an  extraordinary  interest  in  him  lately. 
Even  now,  your  voice  trembles,  and  your  color  is  raised  beyond 
the  requirements  of  the  occasion." 

"  How  is  it  possible  to  avoid  being  excited,  when  my  brother 
speaks  disparagingly  of  one  who  has  every  title  to  compassion 
and  respect?  Is  it  not  enough  to  soften  your  heart,  to  think  of 
the  wretchedness  he  suffered  so  many  years,  and  which  shat 
tered  his  fine  understanding  ?  And  now,  that  his Oh, 

William!"  she  cried,  bursting  into  tears,  "I  did  not  think  you 
were  so  hard-hearted." 

"  My  dear  Anne  !  my  dear  sister  !"  exclaimed  her  brother, 
putting  his  arm  around  her  and  drawing  her  towards  him,  "  for 
give  me.  I  never  meant  to  hurt  your  feelings,  though  I  am 
sorry  they  are  so  much  interested." 

"  I  will  not  affect  to  misunderstand  you,  brother,"  she  said, 
recovering  herself ;  "  but  you  are  mistaken,  if  you  suppose  that 
Mr.  Pownal  has  ever — has  ever — spoken  to  me  in  a  manner  dif 
ferent  from  the  way  in  which  he  is  in  the  habit  of  conversing 
with  other  ladies." 

"  Heaven  be  praised  for  that,"  said  her  brother.  "  But  I 
ought  to  have  known  you  never  would  permit  it." 

"  You  ought  to  have  known  that,  had  he  done  so,  I  should 


354  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

not  have  kept  it  a  secret.     My  father  and  mother,  and  you, 
would  have  been  made  acquainted  with  it." 

"  And,  now,  dear  Annie,  since  things  are  as  they  are,  I  hope 
you  will  not  give  Pownal  any  encouragement.  Whatever  may 
be  your  present  feelings,  he  cannot  disguise  the  fact,  that  he 
loves  dearly  to  visit  here." 

"  Encouragement  !"  cried  Anne,  her  natural  vivacity  flashing 
up  at  the  imputation.  "  What  do  you  take  me  for,  William 
Bernard,  that  you  venture  to  use  such  a  word  ?  Am  I  one  of 
those  old  maids  whom  some  wicked  wag  has  described  as  crying 
out  in  despair,  <  Who  will  have  me?'  or  a  cherry,  at  which  any 
bird  can  pick  ?" 

"  There  spoke  the  spirit  of  my  sister.  I  hear,  now,  Anne 
Bernard.  -You  will  not  forget  the  position  of  our  family  in 
society,  and  that  upon  you  and  myself  are  centered  the  hopes  of 
our  parents." 

"  I  trust  I  shall  never  forget  my  love  and  duty,  or  have  any 
secrets  from  them.  They  have  a  right  to  be  acquainted  with 
every  emotion  of  my  heart,  nor  am  I  ashamed  they  should  be 
seen." 

"  The  accomplishments  of  Pownal  entitle  him  to  move  in  the 
first  society,  I  cannot  deny  that,"  continued  young  Bernard, 
"  but,  in  my  judgment,  something  more  is  necessary  in  order  to 
warrant  his  boldness  in  aspiring  to  connect  himself  with  one  of 
the  first  families  in  the  country." 

"  You  will  continue  to  harp  on  that  string,  William,  but  my 
opinion  differs  from  yours.  In  our  country  there  should  be  no 
distinctions  but  such  as  are  created  by  goodness  and  intelli 
gence." 

"  It  all  sounds  very  well  in  theory,  but  the  application  of  the 
rule  is  impossible.  The  dreamers  of  Utopian  schemes  may  amuse 
themselves  with  such  hallucinations,  but  practical  people  can 
only  smile  at  them." 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  355 

"Class  me  among  the  dreamers.  Nor  will  I  believe  that 
whatever  is  true  and  just  is  impracticable.  Does  redder  blood 
flow  in  the  veins  of  the  child  cradled  under  a  silken  canopy,  than 
in  those  of  one  rocked  in  a  kneading-trough  ?" 

"  You  have  profited  to  some  purpose  by  the  French  lessons 
of  our  father/'  said  Bernard,  bitterly.  "  Principles  like  these 
may  yet  produce  as  much  confusion  in  our  family  on  a  small 
scale,  as  they  did  in  France  on  a  mighty  theatre." 

"  You  are  losing  yourself  in  the  clouds,  dear  brother.  But 
there  can  be  no  danger  in  following  the  guidance  of  one  so  wise 
and  experienced  as  our  father,  nor  does  it  become  you  to  speak 
slightingly  of  any  opinion  he  may  adopt." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  do  so.  I  should  be  the  last  one  to  do  so, 
though  I  cannot  always  agree  with  him.  But  you  take  an 
unfair  advantage  of  the  little  excitement  I  feel,  to  put  me  in  the 
wrong.  Do  you  think  I  can  look  on  without  being  painfully 
interested,  when  I  see  my  only  sister  about  to  throw  herself 
away  upon  this  obscure  stranger,  for  you  cannot  conceal  it  from 
me  that  you  love  him  ?" 

"  Throw  myself  away  !  Obscure  stranger  !  You  are  unkind 
William.  Love  him  !  it  will  be  time  enough  to  grant  my  love 
when  it  is  asked  for.  It  does  not  become  me,  perhaps,  to  say 
it,  but  Mr.  Pownal  is  not  here  to  answer  for  himself,  and  for 
that  reason  I  will  defend  him.  There  lives  not  the  woman  who 
might  not  be  proud  of  the  love  of  so  noble  and  pure  a  heart. 
But  you  are  not  in  a  humor  to  hear  reason,"  she  added,  rising, 
"and  I  will  leave  you  until  your  returning  good  sense  shall 
have  driven  away  suspicions  equally  unfounded  and  unjust." 

"  Stay,  Anne,  stop,  sister,"  cried  Bernard,  as  with  a  height 
ened  color  she  hastened  out  of  the  room.  "  She  is  too  much 
offended,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  to  heed  me,  and  I  must  wait  for 
a  more  favorable  opportunity  to  renew  the  conversation.  I 
have  seen  this  fancy  gradually  coming  on,  and,  fool  that  I  was, 


356 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


was  afraid  to  speak  for  fear  of  making  things  worse.  I  thought 
it  might  be  only  a  passing  whim,  like  those  which  flutter  twenty 
times  through  girls'  silly  heads  before  they  are  married,  and 
was  unwilling  to  treat  it  as  of  any  consequence.  But  does  Anne 
mean  to  deceive  me  ?  It  is  not  at  all  like  her.  She  never  did 
so  before.  No,  she  has  courage  enough  for  anything,  and  is 
incapable  of  deception.-  But  these  foolish  feelings  strangely 
affect  young  women  and— young  men,  too.  She  must,  herself, 
be  deceived.  She  cannot  be  acquainted  with  the  state  of  her 
own  heart.  Yet  it  may  not  have  gone  so  far  that  it  cannot  be 
stopped.  I  had  other  plans  for  her,  nor  will  I  give  them  up. 
Father  !  mother  !  Pooh  !  nothing  can  be  done  with  them.  He 
would  not  see  her  lip  quiver  or  a  tear  stand  in  her  eye,  if  it 
could  be  prevented  at  the  expense  of  half  his  fortune,'  and 
mother  always  thinks  both  perfection.  No,  if  anything  is  to  be 
done  it  must  be  with  Anne  herself,  or  Pownal,  perhaps.  Yet  I 
would  not  make  the  little  minx  unhappy.  But  to  be  the  brother- 
in-law  of  the  son  of  an  insane  basket-maker  !  It  is  too  ridi 
culous." 

No  two  persons  could  be  more  unlike  in  temperament,  and  in 
many  respects  in  the  organization  of  their  minds,  than  William 
Bernard  and  his  sister.  She,  the  creature  of  impulse,  arriving 
at  her  conclusions  by  a  process  like  intuition  :  he,  cairn,  thought 
ful,  deliberately  weighing  and  revising  every  argument  before  he 
made  up  his  mind  :  she,  destitute  of  all  worldly  prudence  and 
trusting  to  the  inspirations  of  an  ingenuous  and  bold  nature  :  he, 
worldly  wise,  cautious,  and  calculating  the  end  from  the  begin 
ning.  Yet  were  his  aspirations  noble  and  untainted  with  a 
sordid  or  mean  motive.  He  would  not  for  a  world  have 
sacrificed  the  happiness  of  his  sister,  but  he  thought  it  not 
unbecoming  to  promote  his  personal  views  by  her  means,  pro 
vided  it  could  be  done  without  injury  to  herself.  He  was  a 
politician,  and  young  as  he  was  his  scheming  brain  already 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  351 

formed  plans  of  family  and  personal  aggrandizement,  extending 
far  into  the  future.  Anne  was  mixed  up  with  these  in  his 
mind,  and  he  hoped,  by  the  marriage  connection  she  might  form, 
to  increase  a  family  influence  in  furtherance  of  his  plans.  These 
seemed  likely  to  be  defeated  by  Anne's  partiality  for  Pownal, 
and  the  young  man  felt  the  disappointment  as  keenly  as  his  cool 
philosophical  nature  would  permit.  But  let  it  not  be  thought 
that  William  Bernard  brought  worldly  prudence  into  all  his 
plans.  His  love  of  Faith  Armstrong  had  no  connection  with 
any  such  feelings,  and  she  would  have  been  equally  the  object 
of  his  admiration  and  choice,  had  she  been  a  portionless  maiden 
instead  of  the  heiress  of  the  wealthy  Mr.  Armstrong.  We  will 
not  say  that  her  prospect  of  succeeding  to  a  large  fortune  was 
disagreeable  to  her  lover,  but  though  when  he  thought  of  her  it 
would  sometimes  occur  to  his  mind,  yet  was  it  no  consideration 
that  corrupted  the  purity  of  his  affection. 

Anne,  when  she  left  her  brother,  hastened  to  her  chamber  and 
subjected  her  heart  to  a  scrutiny  it  had  never  experienced.  She 
was  startled  upon  an  examination  her  brother's  language  had 
suggested,  to  find  the  interest  Pownal  had  awakened  in  her 
bosom.  She  had  been  pleased  to  be  in  his  company,  and  to 
receive  from  him  those  little  attentions  which  young  men  are  in 
the  habit  of  rendering  to  those  of  the  same  age  of  the  other  sex  : 
a  party  never  seemed  complete  from  which  he  was  absent  : 
there  was  no  one  whose  hand  she  more  willingly  accepted  for  the 
dance,  or  whose  praise  was  more  welcome  when  she  rose  from 
the  piano  :  but  though  the  emotions  she  felt  in  his  presence 
were  so  agreeable,  she  had  not  suspected  them  to  be  those  of 
love.  Her  brother  had  abruptly  awakened  her  to  the  reality. 
In  the  simplicity  of  her  innocence,  and  with  somewhat  of  a 
maiden  shame,  she  blamed  herself  for  allowing  any  young  man 
to  become  to  her  an  object  of  so  much  interest,  and  shrunk  from 
the  idea  of  having  at  some  time  unwittingly  betrayed  herself. 


358  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

She  determined,  whatever  pain  it  might  cost,  to  reveal  to  her 
mother  all  her  feelings,  and  to  be  guided  by  her  advice. 

True  hearted,  guileless  girl  !  instinctively  she  felt  that  the 
path  of  duty  leads  to  peace  and  happiness. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  359 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Oh,  how  this  tyrant,  doubt,  torments  my  breast  I 

My  thoughts,  like  birds,  who're  frighten'd  from  their  nest, 

Around  the  place  where  all  was  hush'd  before, 

Flutter,  and  hardly  nestle  any  more. 

OTWAT. 

OUR  story  now  reverts  to  the  Indians,  of  whom  we  have  for 
so  long  made  little  or  no  mention.  It  is  in  vain  for  us  to 
attempt  to  control  the  course  of  our  tale,  and  to  compel  it,  as 
it  were,  to  be  content  with  the  artificial  banks  of  a  canal,  steal 
ing  insensibly  on,  with  uniform  smoothness,  to  its  terminus. 
Whatever  we  may  do,  it  will  assert  its  liberty,  and  wander  in  its 
own  way,  foaming  down  rocks  and  rugged  precipices,  like  a 
mountain  stream,  at  one  moment,  at  the  next,  stagnating  into  a 
pool,  and  afterwards  gliding  off  in  erratic  windings,  roaming 
like  Ceres,  searching  through  the  world  for  her  lost  Proserpine. 
Not  ours  to  subject  the  succession  of  events  to  our  will,  but  to 
narrate  them  with  such  poor  skill  as  nature  and  a  defective 
education  concede,  trusting  that  a  homely  sincerity,  if  it  cannot 
wholly  supply  the  place  of  art,  may  palliate  its  want. 

Peena,  the  partridge,  or  Esther,  as  she  was  more  commonly 
called  by  the  whites,  heard,  with  an  exquisite  delight,  that  the 
little  boy,  whom  she  had  left  on  the  steps  of  the  house,  in  New 
York,  and 'now  discovered  to  be  Pownal,  was  the  son  of  Holden. 
Nothing  could  have  happened  more  calculated  to  deepen  the 
reverence  she  had  long  felt  for  the  Solitary,  and  to  convince  her 
— though  no  such  argument  was  necessary — that  he  was  a 
"great  medicine,"  or  one  peculiarly  the  favorite,  and  under  the 


ObO  THE      LOST      HUNT  EX. 

guardianship,  of  Superior  Powers.  She  herself  seemed  con 
trolled  by  the  Manito  that  watched  over  Holden,  and  compel 
led,  even  unknown  to  herself,  to  guard  his  interests.  For  was 
it  not  she  who  had  preserved  the  child  ?  Was  it  not  she  who 
had  placed  him  in  a  situation  to  become  a  great  and  rich  man  ? 
— for  such,  to  her  simplicity,  Pownal  seemed  to  be — was  it  not 
she  who  had  brought  father  and  son  together,  and  revealed 
each  to  the  other  ?  As  these  reflections  and  the  like  passed 
through  her  mind,  a  shudder  of  superstition  thrilled  her  frame, 
and  she  turned  her  attention  to  the  consideration  of  how  she 
might  best  fulfill  the  designs  of  the  Manito.  For  it  will  be  remem 
bered,  that,  although  nominally  a  Christian,  she  had  not  wholly 
cast  off  the  wild  notions  of  her  tribe,  if  it  be,  indeed,  possible 
for  an  adult  Indian  to  do  so.  The  maxim  of  Horace  : 

"  Quo  semel  est  imbuta  recens  servabit  odorem 
Testa  diu," 

is  of  universal  application,  nor  has  it  ever  greater  force  than 
when  reference  is  had  to  ideas,  connected  with  the  terrors 
of  an  unseen  world,  and  where  the  mind  that  entertains  them  is 
destitute  of  the  advantages  of  education. 

Esther,  it  may  readily  then  be  supposed,  did  not  delay  after 
their  arrival,  to  go  to  see  both  Holden  and  his  son.  She  could 
not  behold  again,  and  recognize  the  child  she  had  preserved,  in 
the  young  man  who  stood  before  her,  without  strong  feeling,  nor 
could  Pownal  look  unmoved  upon  the  gentle  and  timid  woman, 
to  whom  he  was  so  much  indebted.  Esther  knew  again  the 
string  of  coral  beads  she  had  left  upon  the  boy's  neck,  and 
ascribed  it  to  the  whispers  of  the  Great  Spirit,  thait  she  had 
allowed  them  to  remain.  She  did  not  return  from  her  visit  to 
Pownal  empty  handed.  In  fact,  she  was  loaded  with  as  many 
presents,  of  such  articles  as  suited  her  condition  and  half-civi 
lized  taste,  as  she  and  the  boy,  Quadaquina,  who  commonly 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  361 

accompanied  her,  could  carry.  It  was  the  mode  which  naturally 
suggested  itself  to  Pownal,  as  alike  most  pleasing  to  Peena, 
and  most  calculated  to  impress  her  mind  with  a  sense  of  his 
estimate  of  her  services,  especially  as  there  was  connected  with 
the  gifts  a  promise,  that  during  his  life  her  wants  and  wishes 
should  all  be  supplied.  Peeua  now  felt  herself  the  happiest  and 
richest  of  her  tribe,  and  her  heart  glowed  with  devotion  towards 
those  who  had  been  the  means  of  investing  her  with  wealth,  and 
the  consequence  attached  to  it. 

"  Hugh  !"  ejaculated  Ohquamehud,  in  amazement,  as  the 
squaw  and  her  son  threw  down  upon  the  floor  of  the  cabin  the 
rich  red  and  blue  cloths,  and  hats,  and  shoes,  and  other  articles 
which  Pownal  had  pressed  upon  them.  The  exclamation 
escaped  involuntarily,  but,  with  a  natural  politeness,  the  Indian 
asked  no  questions,  but  waited  till  it  should  please  the  squaw  to 
furnish  an  explanation. 

The  sweet-tempered  Peena  saw  his  desire,  and  turning  to  the 
boy,  she  said,  in  their  native  language,  in  which  the  three 
always  conversed  together  : 

"Speak,  Quadaquiua,  that  the  eyes  of  thy  father's  brother 
may  be  opened." 

The  boy,  in  obedience  to  the  command  of  his  mother,  and 
without  looking  at  the  Indian,  tersely  replied  : 

"  They  are  the  gifts  of  my  white  brother  with  the  open  hand, 
the  son  of  the  Longbeard." 

Ohquamehud  appeared  offended,  and  he  asked,  in  a  sharp 
tone  : 

"  Is  Quadaquina  ashamed,  when  he  speaks  to  a  warrior,  to 
look  him  in  the  eyes,  arid  did  he  learn  his  manners  from  the  pale 
faces?" 

The  boy  turned  round,  and  gazed  full  at  the  other,  and  his 
eyes  glistened,  yet  it  was  in  a  low,  soft  tone  he  replied  : 

"  Quadaquina  is  a  child,  and  knows  not  the  customs  of  war- 

16 


362  THE      LOST      HUNTER 

riors,  and  children  turn  away  their  eyes  from  what  they  do  not 
wish  to  see." 

Ohquamehud's  face  darkened  as  he  said  : 

"The  arts  of  the  Longbeard  have  blown  a  cloud  between 
me  and  my  kindred,  so  that  they  cannot  see  me,  and  it  is  time 
my  feet  were  turned  towards  the  setting  sun." 

"It  is  the  fire-water  that  puts  out  the  eyes  of  Oquamehud, 
and  makes  him  forget  what  he  owes  to  the  wife  of  Huttamoi- 
den,"  exclaimed  the  boy,  with  suppressed  passion. 

"  Peace,  Quadaquina,"  said  his  mother.  "  Ohquamehud  is 
not  now  the  slave  of  the  fire-water.  Go,"  she  added,  detecting, 
with  a  mother's  sagacity,  the  tumult  in  the  mind  of  the  high- 
spirited  boy,  "and.  return  not  until  thou  hast  tamed  thine 
anger.  Wolves  dwell  not  iu  the  cabin  of  Peena." 

The  boy,  with  downcast  eyes,  and  obedient  to  his  mother, 
left  the  hut. 

In  explanation  of  this  scene  we  may  say,  that,  unhappily, 
like  most  Indians,  Ohquamehud  was  addicted  to  the  use  of  spiri 
tuous  liquors/  his  indulgence  in  the  fiery  gratification  being 
limited  only  by  his  inability  at  all  times  to  obtain  it."  Although 
unable  to  indulge  his  appetite  in  the  cabin  of  Esther,  he  occa 
sionally  procured  strong  liquors  in  the  huts  of  the  other 
Indians,  with  whom  the  practice  of  taking  stimulants  was 
almost  universal,  and  sometimes  in  such  quantities  as  utterly  to 
lose  his  reason.  Returned  on  one  of  these  occasions,  he 
demanded  rum  from  Esther,  and,  upon  her  refusal  to  give  it, 
struck  her  a  blow.  This  so  exasperated  the  boy,  Quadaquina, 
who  was  present,  that,  with  a  club,  he  prostrated  the  drunken 
man,  which,  indeed,  in  the  condition  he  was  in,  was  not  diffi 
cult,  and  would,  had  he  not  been  restrained  by  Peena,  have 
inflicted  a  serious  injury,  if  not  killed  him.  Ohquamehud  never 
knew  that  he  had  been  struck,  but  ascribed  the  violent  pain 
in  his  head  the  next  day  to  the  fire-water,  and  the  contusion  to 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  363 

a  fall.  Peena,  while  lamenting  the  excesses  of  her  relative,  felt 
little  or  no  resentment  towards  him  ;  but  not  so  with  the  boy. 
He  despised  Ohquarnehud  for  the  miserable  exhibitions  of  imbe 
cility  he  made  in  his  cups,  and  hated  him  for  the  violence  to  his 
mother. 

"  Look,"  said  Peena,  pointing  to  the  articles,  and  desirous  to 
remove  the  rising  discontent  from  the  mind  of  the  Indian,  "  the 
heart  of  the  young  Longbeard  (for  she  had  no  other  name  for 
Pownal  in  her  language)  is  large.  All  these  he  took  out  of  it 
for  Peena." 

"  Accursed  be  the  gifts  of  the  pale  faces !"  exclaimed 
Ohquarnehud.  "For  such  rags  our  fathers  sold  our  hunting- 
grounds,  and  gave  permission  to  the  strangers  to  build  walls  in 
the  rivers  so  that  the  fish  cannot  swim  up." 

"Peena  sold  nothing  for  these,"  said  the  squaw,  mildly. 
"  Because  the  young  Longbeard  loved  Peena  he  gave  them  all 
to  her." 

"  Did  not  Peena  preserve  his  life  ?  But  she  is  right.  The 
white  face  has  an  open  hand,  and  pays  more  for  his  life  than  it 
is  worth." 

"  The  words  of  my  husband's  brother  are  very  bitter.  What 
has  the  boy  whom  Huttamoiden's  arm  saved  from  the  flames, 
done,  that  blackness  should  gather  over  the  face  of  Ohquarne 
hud  ?" 

"  Quah  !  Does  Peena  ask  ?  She  is  more  foolish  than  the 
bird,  from  which  she  takes  her  name,  when  it  flies  into  a  tree. 
Is  he  not  the  sou  of  Onontio  ?" 

"  Peena  never  saw  Onoutio.  She  has  only  heard  of  him  as 
one,  who,  like  the  red  men,  loves  scalps.  The  Longbeard  is  a 
man  of  peace,  and  loves  them  not.  The  eyes  of  Ohquamelmd 
are  getting  dim." 

"  The  eyes  of  Ohquamehud  are  two  fires,  which  throw  a  light 
upon  his  path,  and  he  sees  clearly  what  is  before  him.  It  is 


364  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

only  blood  that  can  wash  out  from  the  eyes  of  a  warrior  the 
remembrance  of  his  enemy,  and  nothing  but  water  has  cleansed 
Ohquamehud's.  Thrice  have  I  meet  Onontio,  once  on  the  yellow 
Wabash  :  again,  where  the  mighty  Mississippi  and  Ohio  flow 
into  each  other's  bosoms,  and  a  third  time  on  the  plains  of  the 
Upper  Illinois.  "  Look,"  he  cried  suddenly,  throwing  open  his 
shirt,  and  exposing  his  breast,  the  bullet  of  Onontio  made  that 
mark  like  the  track  of  a  swift  canoe  in  the  water.  It  talks 
very  plain  and  will  not  let  Ohquamehud  forget." 

"  If  the  Longbeard  be  Onoutio,  his  son  has  done  my  brother 
no  injury." 

"The  gifts  of  the  pale  face  have  blinded  the  eyes,  and  stop 
ped  the  ears  of  my  sister,  so  that  she  can  neither  see  nor  hear 
the  truth.  Who,  when  he  kills  the  old  panther,  lets  the  cubs 
escape  ?" 

"There  is  peace  between  the  red  man  and  the  white  on  the 
banks  of  the  Sakimau.  The  long  knives  are  as  plenty  as  the 
leaves  of  the  western  forests.  Ohquamehud  must  forget  the 
bullet  of  Onontio  until  he  finds  him  on  the  prairie,  or  where 
the  streams  run  towards  the  setting  sun." 

"  My  sister  is  very  wise,"  said  the  savage,  his  whole  manner 
changing  from  the  ferocity,  which  had  at  first  characterized  it, 
to  a  subdued  and  even  quiet  tone.  "  But,"  added  he,  as  it 
were  despondingly,  "let  her  not  fear  for  the  safety  of  the  Long- 
beard.  Ohquamehud  is  weak  and  cannot  contend  with  so 
great  a  medicine.  He  turned  away,  as  if  unwilling  to  continue 
the  conversation,  nor  did  Peena  manifest  any  disposition  to 
renew  it. 

There  was,  however,  something  about  the  Indian,  that  alarmed 
the  squaw,  as  she  had  never  been  before,  notwithstanding  the 
pacific  language,  with  which  he  concluded.  The  time  was  draw 
ing  nigh  for  Ohqmimelmd's  return  to  the  West,  and,  knowing 
his  brutal  temper,  she  feared  that  under  the  influence  of  the 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  365 

spiritnous  liquors  he  indulged  in  to  excess,  he  might  attempt  to 
signalize  his  departure  by  some  act  of  wrong  and  revenge,  which 
would  bring  down  destruction  on  himself,  and  disastrously  affect 
the  fortunes  of  the  tribe.  He  evidently  cherished  a  bitter  ani 
mosity  toward  Holden,  whom  he  had  recognized  as  a  formidable 
enemy,  and  although  a  cool  and  wary  savage  when  himself,  and 
as  capable  of  appreciating  the  consequences  of  an  act  as  clearly 
as  any  one  and  therefore  likely  to  be  deterred  from  violence, 
there  was  no  knowing  what  he  might  do,  when  stimulated  by  the 
frenzy  that  lurks  in  the  seductive  draught.  Peena  knew  the 
difficulty,  with  which  an  Indian  foregoes  revenge,  and  her  appre 
hensions  were  the  more  excited  by  the  attachment  she  felt  for 
the  two  white  men.  Fears,  vague  and  unformed  had  before 
floated  through  her  mind,  but  they  now  assumed  consistency, 
and  she  determined  to  take  such  precautions  until  the  departure 
of  her  kinsman  as  should  prevent  harm  either  to  himself  or 
others.  With  this  view,  the  moment  she  was  alone  with  her 
son,  she  seized  the  opportunity  to  speak  on  the  subject  of  her 
alarm.  But,  first  she  thought  it  necessary  to  reprove  him  for 
his  feelings  towards  his  uncle. 

"  Whose  blood,"  she  inquired,  flows  in  the  veins  of  Quada- 
quina  ?" 

"  It  is  the  blood  of  Huttamoiden,"  answered  the  boy,  erecting 
his  head,  and  drawing  himself  up  proudly. 

"  And  who  gave  the  bold  heart  and  strong  arm  to  Hutta 
moiden  ?" 

"  It  was  the  mighty  Obbatinuua,  whose  name  men  say  is 
still  mentioned  in  the  song  on  the  great  fresh  water  lakes." 

"  He  had  two  sons  ?" 

"  Huttamoiden  and'7-  -  He  stopped  as  if  unwilling  to  pro 
nounce  the  name,  and  turned  with  a  gesture  of  contempt  from 
his  mother. 

Peeua  supplied  the  omission.    "  Oquamehud,"  she  said.    "  He 


366  THE     LOST  HUNTER.    " 

is  a  brave  warrior,  and  the  Shawnees  are  proud  of  his 
exploits." 

"  He  is  a  dog  I"  exclaimed  the  boy,  fiercely.  "  The  blood  of 
Obbatinuua  has  leaked  out  of  his  veins,  and  the  fire-water  taken 
its  place." 

"  He  is  the  kinsman  of  Quadaquina,  and  it  does  not  become 
a  child  to  judge  harshly  of  any  member  of  his  tribe." 

"  Mother,"  said  the  boy,  gravely,  as  if  he  thought  it  incum 
bent  on  him  to  justify  his  conduct,  il  listen.  The  hearts  of 
Obbatinuua  and  of  Huttamoiden  both  beat  in  my  bosom.  They 
tell  me  that  the  son  should  remember  the  glory  of  his  father. 
Quadaquina  is  very  sick  when  he  sees  Ohquamehud  lying  on  the 
ground,  a  slave  of  the  fire-water,  with  his  tongue  lolling  out  like 
a  dog's,  and  he  disdains  to  acknowledge  him  as  of  his 
blood." 

Peena  was  not  disposed  to  blame  the  boy  for  his  disgust  at 
drunkenness.  It  was  a  feeling  she  had  herself  most  sedulously 
cultivated  by  every  means  in  her  power,  pointing  out,  as  occa 
sion  offered,  like  the  Lacedemonians,  its  exhibitions  in  its  worst 
forms,  and  contrasting  the  wretched  drunkard  falling,  from 
degradation  to  degradation,  into  a  dishonored  grave,  with  the 
sober  and  vigorous  man.  She  had  succeeded  in  imparting  to 
Quadaquina  her  own  abhorrence  of  the  vice,  and  was  cautious 
not  to  weaken  the  impression. 

"Enough,"  said  Peena  ;  "my  son  will  grow  up  into  a  brave 
and  good  man  ;  but  if  he  despises  Ohquamehud  for  his  drunken 
ness,  let  him  not  forget  he  is  his  kinsman.  Hearken,"  she 
added,  earnestly,  and  drawing  the  boy  nearer,  while  she  lowered 
her  voice  ;  "  does  Quadaquina  know  that  Ohquamehud  hates  the 
Longbeard  ?" 

"  Quadaquina's  ears  and  eyes  are  open,"  said  the  boy. 

"  Ohquamehud's  feet  will  soon  chase  the  setting  sun,"  con 
tinued  Peena,  "  but  before  he  starts  the  fire-water  may  try  to 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  361 

make  him  do  some  foolish  thing.  Quadaquina  must  have  love 
enough  for  his  kinsman  to  prevent  the  folly." 

"  Not  because  Quadaquina  loves,  but  because  Ohquamehud  is 
his  father's  brother." 

"It  is  well.  Ohquamehud  must  do  the  Longbeard  no  harm, 
and  Quadaquina  must  watch  them  both,  and,  if  need  be,  warn 
the  Longbeard  of  the  danger." 

The  boy,  proud  of  the  trust  committed  to  him,  promised  to 
obey  his  mother  and  be  watchful,  and  from  that  time  com 
menced  a  system  of  patient  vigilance,  of  which  a  white  child 
would  scarcely  be  capable,  but  which  seems  to  be  a  part  of  the 
nature  of  an  Indian.  Whenever  Ohquamehud  left  the  cabin 
Quadaquina  sought  no  more  to  avoid  him,  but  accompanied  him 
whenever  invited,  and  if  not,  generally  followed,  so  as  not  to 
lose  him  long  out  of  sight.  There  was  something  about  the 
trust  that  agreed  well  with  the  cunning  of  the  child.  It  had 
for  him  a  kind  of  fascination,  like  that  which  induces  the  hunter 
patiently,  day  after  day,  to  pursue  the  track  of  the  flying  game, 
looking  forward  to  the  moment  of  success,  when  all  his  toil  is 
to  be  repaid. 

As  for  Esther,  she  lost  no  time  in  starting  off  to  apprise 
Holden  and  Pownal  of  the  danger  she  feared.  As  the  canoe 
glided  along  under  the  strokes  of  the  paddle,  which  she  knew 
how  to  use  as  well  as  any  man,  she  reflected  upon  the  proper 
manner  of  communicating  her  apprehensions ;  but  the  more  she 
thought  on  the  subject,  the  more  difficult  it  appeared.  She 
could  not  mention  the  name  of  her  kinsman  as  the  person  whom 
she  suspected  of  an  evil  design.  That  seemed  to  her  a  sort  of 
treason,  a  violation  of  the  rights  of  relationship  and  of  hospi 
tality.  He  might  be  innocent.  She  herself  might  be  to  blame 
for  cherishing  such  suspicions.  She  knew  not  what  evils  the 
disclosure  of  Ohquamehud's  name  connected  with  the  c'harge 
might  occasion.  He  might  be  arrested  and  put  in  prison, 


368  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

perhaps,  executed.  The  white  people,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
Indians,  had  never  exercised  much  forbearance  towards  them, 
and  regarded  them  as  an  inferior  race.  The  liberty  or  life  of 
an  Indian  was,  probably,  with  them,  but  of  little  consequence. 
Besides,  might  she  not  be  running  some  risk  herself  ?  But  this 
reflection  weighed  but  little  with  the  affectionate  creature. 
While  such  considerations  occurred  to  the  ignorant  and  timid 
woman,  she  was  half  tempted  to  turn  back,  and  trust  to  the 
Manito  or  protecting  genius,  who  had  thus  far  borne  the  Solk 
tary  triumphantly  through  all  perils,  but  her  fears  at  last 
prevailed  over  these  scruples,  and  she  resolved  to  give  the  warn 
ing  without  making  allusion  to  any  person. 

But  Holden,  a  man  naturally  of  great  courage,  and  familiar 
ized  from  his  earliest  years  with  danger,  and  the  means  of 
avoiding  it,  paid  but  little  attention  to  the  obscure  hints  of 
Esther.  He  did  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  inquire  to  what 
direction  her  allusions  pointed.  From  whom,  from  what,  had 
he  to  apprehend  danger  to  his  life  ?  He  had  voluntarily 
embraced  poverty  ;  there  was  nothing  about  him  to  tempt 
cupidity ;  he  loved  all  the  world,  and  would  hardly,  indeed, 
hesitate  to  sacrifice,  if  need  were,  his  life  for  that  of  an  another. 
What  motive  could  there  be  to  injure  him  ?  He  was  not  in  the 
boundless  forest  of  the  West,  roamed  by  predatory  savages,  but 
in  a  land  of  law,  and  order,  and  religion.  Were  he,  indeed,  in 
those  regions  which  had  witnessed  the  fiery  trials  and  perils  of 
his  youth,  caution  would  be  necessary  ;  but  even  then,  he  would 
have  relied  with  confidence  on  his  own  resources,  controlled  and 
directed  by  a  shaping  Providence.  It  was  not  probable  that 
Holden  thought  at  all  of  Ohquamehud,  but  if  his  mind  rested 
for  a  moment  on  the  Indian,  it  could  not  be  with  an  emotion  of 
fear.  The  western  pioneers  feel  their  superiority  too  greatly  to 
be  accessible  to  such  apprehensions,  and  Holden  had  been  too 
long  a  hunter  of  savages,  to  dread  either  their  cunning  or  their 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

force.  Had  he  reflected  on  the  subject,  he  would  have  seemed 
to  himself  to  stand  in  pretty  much  the  same  relation  to  a  red 
skin  that  a  grown  man  does  to  a  child  ;  or,  if  the  Indian  were 
hostile,  as  the  hunter  does  to  the  bears,  and  wolves,  and  cata 
mounts,  he  pursues. 

"  Peena,"  said  Holdeu,  "  I  thank  thee.  It  is  not  in  human 
nature  to  be  ungrateful  for  affection,  whatever  be  the  color  of 
the  skin  that  covers  the  heart  which  offers  it.  But  dismiss  thy 
fears,  and  think  of  them  as  unsubstantial  as  the  morning  mist. 
And  know  that  at  all  times  doubt  and  fear  are  in  vain.  Thou 
canst  not  make  one  hair  white  and  another  black.  It  is 
appointed  unto  all  men  once  to  die,  but  of  the  times  and  sea 
sons,  though  fixed  by  the  Master  of  Life  with  infallible  wisdom, 
and  by  a  decree  that  may  not  be  gainsaid,  no  man  knoweth. 
The  arrow  shot  by  the  hand  of  Jehovah  must  reach  its  mark, 
though  thou  seest  not  its  truck  in  the  clouds. 

Somewhat  more  effect  attended  Esther's  visit  to  Pownal,  not 
that,  indeed,  she  felt  the  same  apprehensions  for  him  as  for  his 
father,  or  was  able  to  inspire  him  with  fears  on  his  own  account. 
Living  in  the  village,  and  with  habits  so  different  from  those  of 
Holden,  he  was  vastly  less  exposed  to  a  danger  of  the  kind  she 
apprehended.  The  bullet  or  the  knife  of  the  savage  would  not 
be  likely  to  reach  him  in  the  streets  of  Hillsdalc.  For  it  is  no 
part  of  the  tactics  of  an  American  Indian  to  expose  his  own  life. 
On  the  contrary,  he  is  considered  a  fool  who  does  so  unnecessa 
rily.  Stratagem  is  prized  above  force,  and  he  is  the  greatest 
warrior  who,  while  inflicting  an  injury,  takes  care  not  to  expose 
himself  to  harm.  Esther  knew  all  this,  and  for  these  reasons, 
perhaps,  if  with  Holden  she  was  vague,  with  his  son  she  was 
oracular.  Consequently,  Pownal  only  laughed  at  her,  when  she 
spoke  of  himself,  as  well,  indeed,  he  might,  but  when  she 
referred  to  his  father,  the  case  was  altered.  Not  that  any  clear, 
well-defined  danger  presented  itself,  but  as  in  low,  monotonous 


310  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

tones  the  squaw  proceeded,  darkly  hinting  at  what  she  would 
not  explain,  an  oppression  fell  upon  his  spirits  as  strange  as  it  was 
painful.  We  can  liken  it  to  nothing  with  more  propriety  than 
to  that  dim  sense  of  terror  and  discomfort  which  is  sometimes 
observed  in  the  inferior  animals  at  the  approach  of  an  eclipse  or 
the  bursting  of  a  hurricane.  Yielding  to  the  mysterious  moni 
tor,  and  prompt  in  action  as  he  was  rapid  in  judgment,  Pownal 
proceeded  instantly  to  seek  his  father. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

And  with  him  thousand  phantoms  joined 
Who  prompt  to  deeds  accursed  the  mind, 
And  those  the  fiends  who,  near  allied, 
O'er  Nature's  wounds  and  wrecks  preside ; 
While  Vengeance,  in  the  lurid  air, 
Lifts  his  right  arm,  exposed  and  bare. 

COLLINS. 

OHQUAMEHUD,  with  all  his  burning  passion  for  revenge,  dared 
not  undertake  anything  against  his  enemy,  in  opposition  to  the 
commands  of  the  Manito.  After  the  signal  interposition,  as  he 
conceived  it  to  be,  in  favor  of  Holden  at  the  cabin  of  the  latter, 
he  thought  it  not  prudent  to  renew  the  attempt  at  the  same 
place.  The  terror  of  that  moment  was  too  deeply  impressed  to 
allow  him  to  hazard  its  repetition.  But  the  power  of  that 
Manito  might  not  extend  elsewhere,  and  there  were  other 
Manitos  who,  perhaps,  were  more  powerful,  and  might  be  more 
propitious.  He  would  endeavor  to  conciliate  one  of  them,  and 
so  arrive  at  the  accomplishment  of  his  wishes. 

It  has  been  observed  that  the  falls  of  the  Yaupaae  were  a 
favorite  place  of  resort  for  the  Solitary.  Especially  at  this 
season  of  the  year  (for  it  was  now  the  delicious  month  of  June, 
the  loveliest  of  the  twelve)  did  he  love  to  haunt  its  neighbor 
hood.  There  was  something  in  the  wild  scenery,  in  the  dash 
and  tumult  of  the  water,  and  in  its  ceaseless  shout,  that  harmo 
nized  well  with  his  feelings  in  their  various  moods.  His  was  a 
grand  soul,  and  felt  itself  allied  to  the  grandeur  of  nature.  As 
the  air,  driven  through  the  pipes  of  a  mighty  organ,  issues  out 


272  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

in  solemn  concords  and  divine  harmonies,  of  power  to  lift  the 
spirit  on  wings  of  cherubim  and  seraphim  above  "  the  mists  of 
this  dim  spot  which  men  call  earth"  and  recall  its  contempla 
tions  to  its  heavenly  origin,  so  these  sights  and  sounds,  playing 
through  the  soul  of  the  Solitary,  chased  away  whatever  would 
clog  its  upward  flight,  soothing  while  they  elevated,  and  bridg 
ing  over  the  chasm  that  separates  the  lower  from  the  upper 
spheres.  This  habit  of  Holden  was  well  known  to  the  Indian, 
for  he  had  often  seen  the  Solitary  musing  on  a  rock  that  over 
hung  the  falls.  The  retirement  of  the  place,  likewise,  was  favor 
able  to  the  purpose  of  an  assassin.  It  was  seldom  in  those 
days,  except  tempted  by  its  romance,  that  a  person  visited  the 
spot.  There  were  other  reasons,  also,  that  had  an  influence 
over  the  superstitious  mind  of  the  Indian,  in  determining  his 
choice. 

A  child  of  nature,  cradled  in  her  wild  bosom  and  reared  in 
her  arms,  he,  too,  felt  her  awful  charms.  He  could  not  listen 
to  the  voice  of  the  majestic  torrent,  or  gaze  upon  the  grey 
rocks  without  a  reverent  admiration.  And  in  proportion  to  this 
feeling  was  his  awe  of  the  Manito  who  presided  over  the  scene. 
How  prodigious  must  be  His  power  !  The  irresistible  sweep  of 
the  cataract  resembled  his  strength  ;  its  roar,  his  voice  ;  and 
the  hoary  rocks  were  indicative  of  his  age.  Could  he  obtain  the 
favor  of  so  mighty  a  Being — could  he  induce  him  to  aid  his 
design,  it  could  be  easy  of  execution.  He  would  make  the  trial. 
He  would  approach  him  with  offerings,  and  acquaint  him  with 
his  wishes.  The  Genius  of  the  Fall  ought  not  to  love  the  white 
man.  The  pale  faces  never  offered  him  gifts,  while  the  red  men, 
long  before  the  arrival  of  the  fatal  stranger  and  since,  had 
covered  the  shores  with  presents.  He  would  not  be  clisregard- 
ful  or  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  one  of  his  children  who  sought  a  just 
revenge. 

Animated  by  these  considerations  and  such  hopes,  Ohquame- 


THE     LOST      HUNTER.  373 

hud  left  the  hut  of  Esther  on  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day, 
to  propitiate  the  Manito  of  the  Falls.     His  way  led  through  the 
wood,  along  the  margin  of  the  Severn  for  a  few  miles  and  then 
crossed  the  high-road  and  some  open  fields  and  another  belt  of 
woods,  before  he  reached  the  Yaupaae.     Arrived  at  his  destina 
tion,  he  looked  with  a-  solemn  air  around  as  if  half  expecting  to 
see  the  Genius  of  the  place..     But  he  beheld  nothing,  save  the 
wild  features  of  nature,  and  the  moss-grown  roof  of  the  old  mill, 
almost  hid  by  the  intervening  trees  :  he  heard  no  sound  except 
the  uninterrupted  roaring  of  the  torrent.    In  the  hot  rays  of  that 
June  sun,  not  even  the  birds  emitted  a  note,  waiting  under  their 
leafy  shelters  in  the  darkest  recesses  of  the  woods,  until  the  plea 
sant  coolness  of  approaching  evening  should  tempt  them  out 
and  reawaken  their  songs.     The  Indian,  seeing  that  no  one  was 
in   sight,  commenced  collecting  brush  and  sticks  of  dry  wood 
that  lay  about,  which  he  heaped  up  into  a  pile  upon  a  rock  close 
to  the  water's  edge.     After  he  had  gathered  together  a  quantity 
that  appeared  to  him  sufficient,  he  selected  from  the  stones  lying 
around,  a  couple  of  flints  which  seemed  fittest  for  his  purpose, 
and  by  striking  them  violently  together,  soon  succeeded  in  pro 
ducing  a  shower  of  sparks,  which  falling  on  the  thoroughly  dried 
and   combustible  matter,  instantly   set  it  on  fire,  and  shot   a 
tongue  of  flame  into  the  air.     Reverently  then  inclining  his  body 
towards    the    cataract,    as    in    an    attitude    of    supplication, 
Ohquamehud  addressed  the  Manito,  and  explained  his  wishes. 
He  spoke  with  dignity,  as   one   who,  though   standing  in  the 
presence  of  a  superior,  was  not  unmindful  of  his  own  worth. 
The  sounds  at  first  were  those  of  lamentation,  so  low  as  scarcely 
to  be  audible,   and  plaintive  and  sweet  as  the  sighs    of   the 
wind  through  the  curled  conch  shell.     "  Oh  Manito,"  he  said, 
"  where  are  thy  children,  once  as  plenty  as  the  forest-leaves  ? 
Ask  of  the  month  of  flowers  for  the  snows  that  'Hpoon  scatters 
from  his  hand,  or  of  the  Yaupaae  for  the  streams  he  pours  into 


374  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

the  great  Salt  Lake.  The  sick-skinned  stranger,  with  hair  like 
the  curls  of  the  vine,  came  from  the  rising  sun.  He  was  weak  as 
a  little  child  :  he  shivered  with  the  cold  :  he  was  perishing  with 
hunger.  The  red  man  was  strong  :  he  wrapped  himself  in  bear 
skins  and  was  warm  ;  he  built  his  wigwam  of  bark,  and  defied  the 
storm,  and  meat  was  plenty  in  his  pot.  _  He  pitied  the  dying 
stranger  ;  he  brought  him  on  his  back  out  of  the  snow,  and  laid 
him  by  the  fire  ;  he  chafed  his  limbs  and  clothed  him  in  furs  ;  he 
presented  venison  with  his  own  hands,  and  the  daughters  of  the 
tribes  offered  honey  and  cakes  of  maize,  and  wept  for  compassion. 
And  the  pale  face  saw  that  our  land  was  better  than  his  own, 
and  he  envied  us,  and  sent  messengers  to  his  people  to  come  and 
strip  us  of  our  heritage.  Then  they  came  as  the  flights  of 
pigeons  in  the  spring,  innumerable  :  in  multitudes  as  the  shad 
and  salmon,  when  they  ascend  the  thawed  rivers.  They  poison 
ed  the  air  with  their  breaths,  and  the  Indians  died  helpless  in  the 
pestilence.  They  made  war  upon  us,  and  drove  us  from  our  corn 
fields  ;  they  killed  our  old  men,  and  sent  away  our  young  men 
and  maidens  into  slavery.  0,  Manito,  thus  hath  the  accursed 
pale  faces  requited  our  kindness. 

"  Wast  thou  displeased  with  the  red  "men  0,  Manito  ?  Had 
the  children  of  the  Forest  offended  thee,  that  thou  didst  deliver 
them  into  the  hand  of  their  enemies  ?  See,  what  thine  incon 
siderate  anger  hath  done.  Thou  hast  destroyed  us,  and  injured 
thyself.  Where  are  the  offerings  that  once  covered  these  rocks,  the 
bears' meat  and  the  venison,  the  wampum,  the  feathers  of  the  eagle, 
and  sweet-smelling  tobacco  ?  Who  now  honoreth  the  Manito  of 
the  loud  voiced  Yaupaae  ?  I  listen,  but  I  hear  no  answer." 

Thus  far  the  voice  of  Ohquamehud  was  low  and  melancholy, 
as  the  wail  of  a  broken  heart,  and  his  face  sad,  as  of  one  lament 
ing  for  a  friend,  but  now  it  changed  to  a  loftier  expression,  and 
the  words  were  hissed  out  with  a  guttural  roughness,  without 
being  spoken  much  louder. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  375 

"  O,  Manito  !"  he  continued,  "  I  alone  am  left  to  offer  thee 
the  sacrifice  of  the  fragrant  tobacco.  Behold  !  I  will  fill  thy 
pipe  many  times  if  thou  wilt  assist  me.  Onontio  hath  done  me 
much  mischief.  He  hath  burned  the  villages  of  my  people,  and 
slain  our  warriors.  Why  shouldst  thou  favor  him  ?  Is  he  not 
a  dog  which  thou  wilt  kick  away  from  the  door  of  thy  lodge  ? 
He  cometh,  sometimes,  and  sitteth  upon  the  highest  rock,  to 
look  down  upon  thy  dwelling-place.  It  is  to  nourish  the  pride 
of  his  heart.  It  is  to  exult  that,  as  far  as  his  eye  can  see,  it 
beholds  no  wigwam,  nor  one  bringing  thee  gifts.  Help  Mani 
to  !  Think  upon  thine  own  wrongs, — remember  the  suffer 
ings  of  the  red  man,  and  give  me  the  scalp  of  Onontio.  Accept 
my  offering." 

Having  thus  spoken,  and  conciliated  by  every  means  that 
occurred  to  his  untutored  mind,  the  good-will  of  the  tutelary 
Spirit  of  the  Falls,  recounting  the  generosity  of  the  Indians,  and 
the  ingratitude  of  the  whites,  remonstrating  with  the  Manito 
for  his  supposed  anger,  and  pointing  out  its  folly,  trying  to 
stimulate  his  indignation  on  account  of  the  neglect  of  himself, 
and,  to  tempt  his  love  of  presents  by  promises,  Ohquamehud 
threw  a  quantity  of  tobacco  in  the  leaf,  which  the  Indians  were 
accustomed  to  raise  themselves  around  their  cabins,  into  the 
flames.  But  an  incident  took  place,  which,  for  a  time,  dashed 
his  hopes  to  the  ground,  and  covered  him  with  mortification  and 
confusion. 

The  day,  as  we  have  already  intimated,  was  unusually  hot,  even 
for  the  month  of  June.  As  the  hours  advanced,  a  sultry  and 
slumbrous  silence  filled  the  air,  which  quivered  with  the  heat. 
Clouds  began  to  collect  in  the  northwest,  and  to  roll  up  higher 
and  higher  towards  the  zenith,  in  immense  waves,  which  dark 
ened  momently,  until  half  the  heavens  seemed  covered  with 
a  pall.  The  lightning  began  to  play  more  frequently  over  the 
surging  blackness,  and  the  mutterings  of  the  thunder  became 


376  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

every  instant  louder.  Ohquamehud  was  not  altogether  una 
ware  of  the  approaching  storm,  but,  engaged  in  the  solemn 
rite,  the  appearances  of  the  clouds  had  not  attracted  as  much 
of  his  attention  as  otherwise  they  would  have  done.  At  the 
instant  he  threw  the  tobacco  into  the  fire,  the  blackness  of  the 
clouds  was  inteusest,  and  a  grim  silence,  as  if  nature  were  wait 
ing  in  anxious  expectation  of  some  grand  event,  brooded  over 
the  earth,  interrupted  only  by  the  shout  of  the  cataract  ;  then, 
a  thunderbolt  blazed  almost  in  the  eyes  of  the  Indian,  followed, 
instantly,  by  a  crash,  as  if  the  solid  rocks  were  splintered  into 
fragments,  and  by  a  torrent  of  rain,  pouring,  not  in  drops,  but, 
in  one  continuous  flood.  For  a  few  moments,  the  rain  con 
tinued  falling  violently,  then  gradually  slackened  and  ceased. 
The  lightning  glittered  less  frequently  ;  the  threatenings  of  the 
thunder  became  less  distinct,  and  the  clouds  rolled  up  their  dark 
standards  and  dispersed,  disappearing  in  the  depths  of  the 
unfathomable  sky. 

The  Indian,  meanwhile,  remained  immovaJble,  staring  at  the 
fire  in  which  the  rain  hissed  as  it  fell.  Thus,  like  a  statue,  he 
stood,  until  the  storm  had  rolled  away  ;  then,  recovering  from 
'his  stupefaction,  he  turned,  despondingly,  from  the  heap  of 
ashes.  His  offering,  then,  had  been  rejected.  The  Manito 
either  could  not  or  would  not  assist  him.  Onontio  bore  a 
charmed  life.  He  was  a  great  medicine,  beyond  the  power  of 
his  vengeance.  Ohquamehud,  with  a  frown  upon  his  brow, 
dark  as  the  folds  of  the  departing  clouds,  strode  several  steps 
from  the  rock,  when,  turning,  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden  thought, 
he  commenced  searching  in  the  ashes.  The  surface,  of  course, 
was  soaked  ;  but,  as  he  penetrated  deeper,  they  were  drier,  and 
at  the  bottom  he  found  unextinguished  coals.  He  carefully 
searched  round,  to  discover  if  any  portion  of  the  tobacco  was 
unconsumed,  but  could  find  none.  The  offering  had  not,  then, 
been  rejected.  *  The  Manito  had  accepted  it.  It  was  not  he 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  371 

who  sent  the  storm.  Perhaps,  some  other  Manito,  who,  how 
ever,  was  unable  to  defeat  the  sacrifice.  The  countenance  of 
Ohquamehud  brightened,  and  he  began  again  to  collect  the  brush 
and  scattered  sticks.  From  hollows,  in  the  butts  of  old  trees, 
and  recesses  under  projecting  cliffs,  he  succeeded  in  finding 
enough  dry  fuel  to  start  the  fire  anew,  and  soon  it  shot  up 
a  bright  bold  flarne  as  before.  "  O,  Monito  !"  he  softly  said, 
"thou  art  not  angry— receive  my  gift."  Again,  he  threw 
tobacco  into  the  fire,  and,  this  time,  no  portent  interposed.  The 
greedy  flame  seized  upon  the  dry  leaves,  which  crackled  in  the 
heat,  and  bore  them  on  its  shining  billows  high  into  the  air. 
The  fire  continued  burning  till  all  was  consumed,  and  the  heap 
sent  up  only  a  spiral  of  indistinct  smoke. 

The  importunity  of  Ohquamehud  had  wrung  from  the  Genius 
the  consent  which  he  solicited.  The  gratified  Indian  stretched 
out  his  hand,  and  again  spoke — 

"  0,  Manito,  thanks  !  The  heart  of  Ohquamehud  is  strong. 
When  he  journeys  towards  the  setting-sun,  his  feet  shall  bound 
like  those  of  a  deer,  for  the  scalp  of  Onontio  will  hang  at  his 
girdle." 

He  glided  into  the  woods  and  disappeared,  ignorant  that  any 
one  had  been  a  witness  of  his  actions.  But,  Quadaquina,  from 
an  evergreen  thicket,  had  watched  all  his  motions.  As  the 
form  of  Ohquamehud  became  dimmer  in  the  distance,  the  boy 
could  not  repress  his  exultation  at  the  success  of  his  ambush, 
but  gave  it  vent  in  a  whistle,  imitating  the  notes  of  the  whip- 
perwill.  It  caught  the  ear  of  the  Indian,  and  he  turned,  and  as 
he  did  so,  the  boy  threw  himself  on  the  ground.  The  sun  had 
hardly  set.  It  was  too  early  for  the  bird  to  be  heard,  which 
never  commences  his  melancholy  chant  until  the  shades  of  even 
ing  are  spread  over  the  dewy  earth.  The  eyes  of  Ohquame 
hud  sent  sharp  glances  in  the  direction  whence  the  whistle 
came,  but  he  could  discern  nothing.  He  listened  for  awhile, 


378 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


but  the  sounds  were  not  repeated,  and  wondering  what  they 
could  mean— for  he  relied  too  implicitly  011  his  senses  to  sup 
pose  his  imagination  had  deceived  him— he  resumed  his  course 
homeward.  Presently,  Quadaquina  slowly  rose,  and,  perceiving 
no  one  in  sight,  followed  in  the  same  direction. 

The  boy,  at  first,  walked  deliberately  along  ;  but,  after,  as 
he  supposed,  a  considerable  interval  was  interposed  between 
him  and  the  Indian,  he  quickened  his  steps,  in  order  to  move  at 
about  the  same  rate  as  the  other.  He  had  cleared  the  clumps 
of  trees  next  to  the  Falls,  and  crossed  the  open  fields,  and 
advanced  some  little  distance  into  the  belt  of  continuous  woods 
along  the  river,  when,  suddenly,  Ohquamehud,  starting  from 
behind  the  trunk  of  a  large  tree,  stood  before  him.  Quadaqui- 
na's  heart  beat  quicker,  but  no  outward  sign  betrayed  emotion. 

"What  does  a  child  like  Quadaquina,  mean  by  wandering  so 
far  in  the  dark  away  from  its  mother  ?"  demanded  Ohquamehud. 

"  Quadaquina  is  no  longer  a  child,"  answered  the  boy,  "  to 
need  his  mother.  He  runs  about,  like  a  squirrel,  in  the  woods, 
whenever  he  please." 

"  Quah  !  He  is  more  like  a  bird,  and  it  is  to  take  lessons 
from  the  whippet-will,  that  he  comes  into  the  woods." 

"  Ohquamehud  talks  like  a  crow  that  knows  not  what  he 
says." 

"When  next,"  said  the  Indian,  with  a  laugh,  "  Quadaquina 
tries  to  be  a  bird,  let  him  remember  that  the  bashful  whipper- 
will  likes  not  the  sun  to  hear  his  song." 

The  boy  fancying  that  he  had  been  discovered,  and  that  any 
further  attempt  at  concealment  was  vain,  answered  boldly, 

"  Jt  is  no  concern  of  Ohquamehud,  whether  Quadaquina  is  a 
bird,  or  a  squirel,  or  a  fish.  He  will  fly  in  the  air,  or  swim  in 
the  water,  or  run  in  the  woods  without  asking  permission  from 
any  one." 

"  And  Ohquamehud  is  not  a  rabbit  to  be  tracked  by  a  little 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  379 

dog  wherever  he  goes.  Ahque!  (beware).  He  will  strike  the 
little  dog  if  he  presses  too  close  upon  his  heels."  So  saying,  and 
as  if  to  give  emphasis  to  his  words,  the  Indian  lightly  touched 
the  shoulders  of  the  boy,  with  a  small  stick  which  he  held  in  his 
hand. 

It  was  like  lightning  falling  in  a  powder-magazine,  so  sud 
denly  blazed  up  the  anger  of  Quadaquina,  when  he  felt  the  touch 
of  the  rod.  He  jumped  back  as  though  bitten  by  a  snake,  and 
snatching  up  a  stone,  hurled  it  with  all  his  strength  at  Ohqua- 
mehud.  It  was  well  that  the  Indian  leaped  behind  a  tree  near 
which  he  stood,  else  the  missile,  with  such  true  aim  and  vindic 
tive  force  was  it  sent,  might  have  proved  fatal.  As  soon  as  the 
stone  was  thrown,  the  Indian  stepped  up  to  the  boy,  who  stood 
trembling  with  passion,  but  observing  no  intention  on  the  part 
of  the  latter  to  renew  his  violence,  he  passed  close  by  him,  with 
a  contemptuous  laugh,  and  pursued  his  way,  Quadaquina  follow 
ing,  though  at  some  distance,  in  his  steps.  The  boy  came  into 
the  hut  of  Peena  within  a  short  time  after  the  entrance  of  the 
Indian,  nor  could  the  most  jealous  eye  have  detected  in  either  a 
trace  of  what  had  happened.  Ohquamehud  moved  with  a  grave 
dignity  to  the  seat  he  usually  occupied,  and  his  pipe  presently 
sent  grateful  volumes  of  smoke  through  the  cabin.  He  noticed, 
however,  that  when  Quadaquina  came  in,  his  mother  made  no 
inquiry  into  the  cause  which  had  detained  him  beyond  the  hour 
of  the  evening  meal,  and  this  confirmed  the  suspicions  that  were 
floating  in  his  mind.  They  were  indeed  vague,  and  he  fancied  that 
if  for  any  reason  he  had  been  watched  by  Quadaquina,  the 
lesson  he  had  just  given  would  intimidate  the  boy,  and  satisfy 
him  there  would  be  danger  in  dogging  the  steps  of  one  so 
vigilant  as  himself,  and  who  had  avowed  his  intention  to  punish 
the  offender,  if  he  were  caught  again. 

Quadaquina,  when  they  were  by  themselves,  related  to  his 
mother  what  he  had  witnessed  at  the  Falls,  but  made  no  allusion 


380  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

to  the  quarrel  betwixt  Ohquamehud  and  himself,  nor  of  the 
threats  of  the  former.  He  could  give  no  account  of  the  address 
to  the  Manito,  the  distance  having  been  too  great  to  allow  him 
to  hear  the  words.  His  story  caused  no  alarm  to  Peena,  inas 
much  as  acquainted  with  the  superstitions  of  the  Indians,  she 
ascribed  the  sacrifice  to  a  desire  to  propitiate  the  Manito,  in 
order  to  secure  a  fortunate  journey  to  the  western  tribe. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

But  love  itself  could  never  pant 
For  all  that  beauty  sighs  to  grant, 
With  half  the  fervor  hate  bestows 
Upon  the  last  embrace  of  foes, 
When  grappling  in  the  fight,  they  fold 
Those  arms  that  ne'er  shall  lose  their  hold; 
Friends  meet  to  part ;  love  laughs  at  faith : 
True  foes,  once  met,  are  joined  till  death ! 

BYRON'S  Giaowr. 

POWNAL,  upon  parting  with  Esther,  sought  his  father.  But 
the  expression  of  his  apprehensions  was  so  vague,  he  was  so 
incapable  of  giving  his  fears  any  definite  shape,  that  he  made  110 
more  impression  than  the  woman.  The  calm  austerity  of  the 
Solitary's  face  almost  melted  into  a  smile  at  the  idea  that  any 
event  could  occur  except  in  the  determined  course  of  things. 
It  was  the  pride  of  the  human  heart  ;  it  was  the  presumption 
of  the  human  intellect  that  dreamed  of  freedom  of  choice  or  of 
action.  If  individual  wills  were  permitted  to  cross  and  jostle 
each  other,  the  universe  would  be  a  scene  of  confusion.  Freedom 
was  only  in  appearance.  One  grand,  serene,  supreme  will 
embraced  the  actual  and  the  ideal  in  its  circle,  and  all  things 
were  moved  by  a  law  as  certain  and  irresistible  as  that  which 
impels  worlds  in  their  orbits.  The  conviction  was  a  part  of 
Holden's  self.  He  could  no  more  be  convinced  of  its  fallacy 
than  of  his  own  non-existence,  and  his  son  left  him  with  the  full 
assurance  that,  even  were  he  to  know  that  his  life  was  menaced, 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


he  would  be  the  last  one  to  take  any  precautionary  measures  for 
its  protection.  But,  in  truth,  the  fears  of  Pownal  were  so 
slight,  that  after  an  allusion  to  them,  he  forbore  to  dwell  upon 
the  subject,  especially  as  the  conversation  took  a  turn  as  interest 
ing  to  him  as  it  was  unexpected. 

"  Thou  art  of  an  age,  iny  son,"  said  Holden,  abruptly,  "  to 
take  to  thee  a  wife,  and  the  bounty  of  the  good  man  whose  name 
I  permit  thee  still  to  bear,  hath  placed  thee  in  a  condition  to 
gratify  an  innocent  and-  natural  desire.  Hath  thy  heart  moved 
at  all  in  this  matter  ?" 

The  question  was  excessively  embarrassing,  and  the  young 
man  blushed  and  hesitated  as  he  replied,  that  there  was  yet 
abundant  time  to  think  of  such  things. 

"  Think  not,"  said  the  Solitary,  observing  his  son's  hesitation, 
"  that  I  desire  to  intrude  into  thy  confidence,  though  the  heart 
of  a  son  should  be  like  a  clear  stream,  the  bottom  of  which  may 
be  seen  by  a  father's  eye.  I  speak,  because  partly  common 
fame,  and  partly  my  own  observation,  connect  thy  name  in  some 
wise  with  a  young  lady's." 

"  And  who  is  the  lady,"  inquired  Pownal,  laughing,  "  whom 
my  indiscreet  gallantry  has  so  compromised  ?" 

"  Nay,  if  thou  wilt  not  be  frank  with  me,  or  choosest  to  reply 
in  the  language  of  trifling,  we  will  drop  the  subject." 

"  I  will  be  frank.     I  will  answer  any  question  you  may  ask." 
"  Tell  me,  then,  is  there  any  relation  between  thee  and  Anne 
Bernard  tenderer  than  that  of  common  acquaintance  ?" 

Pownal  expected  the  question,  and  was  therefore  prepared. 
"  I  esteem  Miss  Bernard  highly,"  he  said.     "  I  am  acquainted 
with  no  young  lady  who  is    her  superior.     I  should  consider 
myself  fortunate  to  attract  her  attention.     But  nothing,  except 
the  language  of  friendship,  has  passed  betwixt  us." 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  said  Holden,  "  and  it  is  evidence  of  excel 
lence  in  thyself  that  one  possessing  the  lovable  and  noble 


THE      LOST      HUNTER  383 

qualities  of  Anne  should  attract  thee.  But  though,  in  the 
limited  circle  of  the  small  town,  thy  presence  may  be  acceptable 
in  the  withdrawing  room  of  the  wealthy  lawyer,  thinkest  thou 
he  will  be  willing  to  give  thee  the  hand  of  his  only  daughter  ?" 

"  I  have  made  no  pretensions  to  the  hand  of  Miss  Bernard  ; 
and  even  if  I  did,  I  see  in  it  no  presumption.  There  is  no 
distinction  of  patrician  and  plebeian  in  this  country." 

"  There  are  no  such  names,  and  yet  there  is  a  distinction. 
Will  it  please  the  rich  and  polished  Judge  to  ally  his  daughter 
with  the  son  of  one  like  me  ?" 

"  Judge  Bernard  is  above  the  mean  conceit  of  valuing  himself 
upon  his  riches.  I  never  heard  anything  that  sounded  like 
arrogance  or  superciliousness  from  him,  and  he  has  uniformly 
treated  me  with  kindness.  For  yourself,  dear  father,  though 
for  reasons  of  your  own  you  have  chosen  to  lead  hitherto 
this  life  of  solitude  and  privation,  why  continue  to  do  so  ? 
Why  not  leave  this  miserable  hut  for  comforts  more  befitting 
your  age  and  the  society  you  are  capable  of  adorning  ?" 

"  Forbear  !  In  this  miserable  hut,  as  thou  callest  it,  I  found 
the  peace  that  passeth  understanding,  and  its  walls  are  to  me 
more  glorious  than  the  gildings  of  palaces.  If  thou  lovest  Anne 
Bernard,  as  I  strongly  suspect,  I  say  not  unto  thee  cease  to  love 
her,  but  wait,  hoarding  thy  love  in  secrecy  and  silence,  until  the 
fullness  of  the  time  is  come.  Wilt  thou  not  promise  me  this, 
for  a  short  time  ?" 

"  I  will  do  nothing,  father,  that  may  be  contrary  to  your 
inclinations." 

"  It  is  enough  :  then  let  there  be  no  change  in  thy  conduct. 
If  thou  have  the  love  of  Anne,  keep  it  as  a  precious  jewel,  but 
for  the  present  be  content  with  the  knowledge  thereof  :  if  thon 
have  it  not,  seek  not  thereafter.  I  promise  thee  it  shall  be  for 
thy  good,  nor  will  I  unreasonably  try  thy  patience." 

Here  the  interview  ended,  and  Pownal  departed,  wondering 


384  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

over  the  mystery  his  father  affected,  though  he  could  not  but 
confess  to  himself  there  was  a  worldly  wisdom  (as  he  supposed 
it  to  be)  in  the  advice,  not  to  be  precipitate,  but  to  watch  the 
course  of  events.  Though  unacquainted  with  the  motives  of  his 
parent,  he  was  bound  to  respect  his  wishes,  and  felt  a  natural 
desire  to  gratify  him  to  the  extent  of  his  ability.  He  had  never 
found  him  unreasonable,  whatever  might  be  his  singularities,  and 
besides,  no  plan  of  his  own  was  crossed.  He  was  obliged  to 
admit  the  possibility  of  a  failure  of  his  suit.  To  break  up  the 
pleasant  relations  existing  betwixt  the  Bernard  family  and  him 
self  ;  not  to  be  allowed  to  approach  Anne  as  before  ;  a  cold 
constraint  to  be  substituted  for  a  confiding  friendship  !  No, 
the  hazard  was  too  great.  Things  should  continue  as  they 
were.  He  and  Anne  were  still  young  :  there  was  time  enough  j 
his  father  was  right ;  the  counsels  of  age  were  wiser  than  those 
prompted  by  the  rashness  and  impetuosity  of  youth. 

The  following  morning  was  calm  and  warm,  when  Holden 
stood  at  the  door  of  his  cabin,  on  the  second  occasion  we  choose 
to  intrude  upon  his  devotions.  Not  a  cloud  was  to  be  seen,  and 
the  pearly  hue  which  overspreads  a  clear  summer  sky,  just 
stealing  out  of  the  shades  of  night,  had  not  disappeared,  except 
in  the  eastern  quarter  of  the  heavens,  where  a  faint  suffusion 
heralded,  like  a  distant  banner,  the  approach  of  the  sun,  wel 
comed,  at  first,  by  the  low  twittering  of  the  birds,  which 
gradually  increased  in  frequency  and  loudness,  until  they  swelled 
into  bold  strains,  and  rose  melodiously  into  the  air. 

The  Solitary  stood,  as  before,  with  eyes  fixed  steadfastly  upon 
the  kindling  east.  Could  it  be  possible  that  an  expectation, 
which  had  been  so  often  disappointed,  should  still  be  cherished  ; 
that  no  experience,  no  arguments  could  dissipate  the  delusion  ? 
It  would  seem  so.  By  that  subtle  process,  whereby  minds  pos 
sessed  by  an  engrossing  idea  convert  facts,  and  language,  and 
any  circumstances,  however  trifling,  and  which,  to  well-balanced 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  385 

intellects,  would  seem  but  little  adapted  to  the  purpose,  into 
proofs  incontrovertible  of  their  opinions,  had  he,  by  dwelling 
upon  certain  texts  of  Scripture,  which,  with  a  mad  shrewdness, 
he  had  collated,  imparted  to  them  gigantic  proportions,  and  a 
peculiar  coloring,  which  dominated  and  threw  light  upon  the 
context,  but  received  no  qualification  or  disparagement  in  return. 
Without  the  necessity  of  repetition,  various  passages  will  occur 
to  the  reader,  which,  taken  ou-t  of  connection  with  what  pre 
cedes  and  follows,  may  easily  be  made  to  support  a  theory  of 
the  kind  he  had  adopted. 

Holden  stood  as  before,  obedient  to  the  command  to  watch, 
and  verily  do  we  believe,  that  had  he,  indeed,  seen  the  Son  of 
Man  in  the  clouds  of  heaven,  the  magnificent  vision  would  have 
impressed  him  with  as  much  joy  as  solemnity.  But  in  vain  he 
looked,  and  having  waited  until  the  yellow  sunshine,  like  a 
shower  of  gold,  fell  all  around  him,  he  retired  into  his  hut. 
Not  unobserved,  however.  The  Indian,  Ohquamehud,  with  his 
rifle  by  his  side,  from  his  place  of  concealment,  on  the  right 
shore,  had  been  watching  all  his  motions.  There  had  he  lain  in 
ambush  ever  since  the  stars  had  deserted  the  sky.  Patiently  he 
lay,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  little  island.  The  sun  mounted 
higher  ;  hour  after  hour  passed  away,  and  yet  he  moved  not. 
The  time  for  the  noonday  meal  arrived,  but  he  heeded  it  not. 
The  hut  of  Peena  was  scarcely  more  than  a  couple  of  miles  dis 
tant,  and  he  might  reach  it  in  a  few  moments,  but  he  stirred 
not.  In  the  interval  of  his  absence  Onontio  might  leave  the 
island,  and  go,  he  knew  not  whither,  and  his  watch  for  the  day 
would  be  in  vain.  And  now  the  lengthening  shadows  were  fall 
ing  towards  the  east.  The  middle  of  the  afternoon  had 
arrived. 

It  was  then  Ohquamehud  saw  Holden,  or  Onontio,  as  he  called 
him,  leave  his  cabin  and  enter  the  canoe.  Its  bow  was  turned 
toward  that  bank  of  the  river  on  which  the  Indian  was  con- 

n 


386  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

cealed,  but  somewhat  higher  up  the  stream,  and,  impelled  by  a 
vigorous  arm,  the  light  boat  skimmed  rapidly  over  the  water. 
It  passed  so  near  to  the  Indian,  that  a  bullet  sent  from  a  steady 
aim  must  have  brought  inevitable  death,  and  the  thought 
crossed  the  mind  of  the  lurking  spy,  whether  it  wore  not  better 
to  fire  from  his  ambush,  but  the  recollection  of  his  adventure  on 
the  island,  and  of  his  offering  to  the  Manito  of  the  Falls, 
occurred  to  him,  and  he  allowed  the  tempting  opportunity  to 
escape. 

Holden  having  run  the  canoe  upon  a  sandy  beach  that  curved 
in  between  two  rocks,  fastened  it  by  a  rope  to  a  heavy  stone, 
and  pursued  his  course  along  the  shore  in  the  direction  of  the 
village.  The  Indian  followed  at  a  distance  in  the  woods,  taking 
care  to  keep  his  own  person  concealed,  but  that  of  the  pursued 
in  sight.  Ohquamehud  had  no  means  of  determining  from  the 
movements  of  Holden,  for  a  considerable  time,  what  were  his 
intentions,  whether  to  enter  the  village  or  go  to  the  Falls,  but 
when  he  reached  the  spot  where,  if  his  design  had  been  to  do 
the  latter,  he  would  have  turned  to  the  left,  to  the  Indian's  bit 
ter  disappointment,  he  advanced  up  the  road  to  the  right. 
Ohquamehud  pretty  much  gave  up  all  hope  of  succeeding  in  his 
design  that  day,  but,  notwithstanding,  still  continued  his  obser 
vation.  Holden  did  not  proceed  far  before  he  entered  a  small 
house  that  stood  by  the  roadside.  (This  delay,  as  we  shall  pre 
sently  observe,  was  attended  with  important  consequences.) 
The  person  whom  the  Solitary  wanted  to  see  was,  probably,  not 
at  home,  but  whatever  may  have  been  the  reason,  he  presently 
left  the  house,  and  retracing  his  steps,  struck  off,  to  the  delight 
of  Ohquamehud,  across  the  fields,  and  in  a  direction  towards 
the  Yaupaae.  The  Indian  waited  until  Holden  was  out  of 
sight,  hidden  by  the  woods  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  field, 
when  he  slowly  followed,  looking  around,  as  if  in  search  of 
game.  Having  reached  the  woods,  he  seemed  to  think  it  iieces- 


THE      LOST      HUN  T  E  K  .  387 

sary  to  use  greater  precaution  in  his  further  approach,  the 
nearer  he  came  to  his  enemy.  With  this  view,  he  moved 
slowly,  carefully  avoiding  stepping  on  any  dry  sticks  or  fallen 
branches,  and  stopping  if,  by  any  chance,  he  made  the  slightest 
noise.  One  would  have  supposed  such  extreme  caution  unne 
cessary,  for  so  loud  was  the  incessant  roar  of  the  cataract,  that 
where  the  Indian  stood  the  keenest  hearing  could  not,  even 
within  a  few  rods,  have  detected  the  noise  made  by  walking.  It 
is  probable  that  habit,  quite  as  much  as  reflection,  determined 
the  proceeding  of  the  Indian. 

With  stealthy  tread,  creeping  like  the  catamount  of  his  native 
forests,  when  he  is  about  to  leap  upon  his  prey,  the  wily  and 
revengeful  Indian  stole  along,  holding  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  while 
each  sense  was  quickened  and  strained  to  the  utmost.  The 
wood  extended  quite  to  the  margin  of  the  Falls,  so  that  he  was 
enabled  to  come  near  without  exposing  his  person.  At  length, 
from  behind  a  large  oak,  one  of  the  original  Sachems  of  the 
wood,  he  beheld  his  foe.  Holden  was  unarmed,  for  though,  at 
certain  times  of  the  year,  when  game  was  in  season,  he  often 
carried  a  gun,  it  was  not  an  uniform  practice  with  him.  He 
stood,  unconscious  of  danger,  with  his  back  to  the  Indian,  his 
arms  folded,  and  gazing  upon  the  water,  that  roared  and  tum 
bled  below.  The  eyes  of  Ohquamehud  gleamed  with  ferocious 
satisfaction  as  he  beheld  his  foe  in  his  power.  Thrice  he  raised 
the  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  after  carefully  examining  the  priming, 
and  as  often  let  the  butt  slide  gently  to  the  ground,  pausing  a 
little  while  each  time  between,  and  never  taking  his  eyes  off  the 
victim.  This  conduct  might  be  mistaken  for  irresolution.  Far 
from  it.  The  fell  purpose  of  the  savage  never  burnt  more 
intensely  ;  his  hatred  was  never"  more  bitter  ;  and  he  was 
debating  with  himself  whether  to  shoot  the  Solitary  as  he  stood, 
nor  allow  him  to  know  his  destroyer,  or  to  rouse  him  to  his 
peril,  to  play  with  his  agonies,  and  thus  give  him  a  foretaste  of 


388  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

death.  Holden  was  at  a  distance  of  not  more  than  fifty  feet ; 
before  him  were  the  precipice  and  the  Falls,  behind  him  was  the 
Indian ;  there  was  no  retreat.  The  fiendish  desire  agitating 
Ohquamehud  was  the  same  as  that  which  the  savages  feel  when 
they  torture  a  prisoner  at  the  stake,  and  delay  the  fatal  stroke 
that  is  a  mercy.  He  felt  sure  of  his  prey,  and  after  a  short- 
period  of  hesitation,  determined  to  gratify  the  diabolical 
passion. 

He  stepped  softly  from  behind  the  oak,  and  glided  onwards, 
until  the  distance  betwixt  himself  and  Holden  was  reduced  to 
thirty  feet.  The  back  of  the  latter  was  still  towards  the 
Indian,  and  he  seemed  absorbed  in  contemplations  that  shut  his 
senses  to  the  admission  of  outward  objects.  Again  Ohquame 
hud  paused,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment,  and  then  uttered  in 
a  distinct  tone  the  word,  "  Onontio." 

The  sound  caught  the  ears  of  Holden,  who  instantly  turned, 
and  beheld  the  threatening  looks  and  attitude  of  the  savage. 
He  comprehended,  at  once,  the  hostile  purpose  of  Ohquamehud, 
and  the  imminence  of  his  own  danger,  but  betrayed  not  the 
slightest  fear.  His  cheek  blanched  not.  His  eye  lost  none  of  its 
usual  daring  as  he  surveyed  the  assassin  ;  nor  did  his  voice  fal 
ter,  as,  disguising  his  suspicions,  he  exclaimed — 

"  Ohquamehud  !  he  is  welcome.  He  hath  come  to  listen  to 
the  voice  of  the  Great  Spirit,  who  speaks  in  the  Yaupaae." 

"  Onoutio  is  mistaken,"  said  the  Indian.  "  The  eyes  of 
Ohquamehud  are  sharp.  They  have  seen  the  blood  of  his  kin 
dred  on  the  hands  of  Onontio,  and  he  will  wash  it  off." 

"  Indian,  thou  hast  discovered — I  know  not  how — that  I 
once  bore  the  name  you  have  mentioned.  It  was  given  to  me 
in  the  days  of  madness  and1  folly  by  the  western  tribes.  But, 
my  hands  are  unstained  by  any  blood,  save  what  was  shed  in 
fair  an4  open  warfare." 

"  Ha  !   Onontio  hath   forgotten   the  fight  in  the  night  of 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  389 

storms,  on  the  banks  of  the  Yellow  Wabash,  when  the  sister  of 
Ohqamehud  was  slain  and  his  brother  pierced  by  the  knife  of 
the  accursed  pale  face,  with  the  curling-hair." 

"  Indian  !  I  sought  to  save  the  maiden's  life.  I  can  show  the 
scar  I  received  in  her  defence.  As  for  thy  brother,  I  know 
naught  of  him.  If  he  fell  by  me,  it  was  in  the  manner  in  which 
one  brave  warrior  meets  another." 

"  It  is  a  lie  !  The  heart  of  the  pale-face  is  fainting.  He  is  a 
weasel,  that  tries  to  creep  through  a  small  hole." 

"  If  I  were  armed  thou  wouldst  not  dare  to  speak  thus,"  said 
Holden,  some  of  the  spirit  of  his  youthful  years  flashing  up. 
"  But,  go  ;  thou  art  a  coward  to  come  armed  against  a  defence 
less  man." 

"  Onontio  is  a  fool  !  Who  told  him  to  leave  his  rifle  in  his 
lodge  ?  He  knoweth  not  so  much  as  a  beast  or  a  reptile. 
When  the  bear  roameth  in  the  forest,  doth  he  leave  his  claws 
in  his  den,  or  the  rattlesnake,  his  teeth  in  the  hole  in  the  rocks  ? 
Let  Onontio  sing  his  death-song,  but,  softly,  lest  the  north 
wind  bear  it  to  the  cub,  who  is  waiting  for  the  second  bullet 
in  the  pouch  of  Oquamehud." 

A  pang  of  inexpressible  agony  cut,  like  a  knife,  through 
the  heart  of  Holden.  He  could  brave-  death  himself,  but, 
good  God  !  that  his  son  should  be  murdered  by  the  savage  ! 
The  thought  was  too  horrible.  For  a  moment,  the  courageous 
heart  almost  stopped,  and,  with  quivering  lips,  he  commended 
the  young  man  to  the  protection  of  Providence.  But  the 
momentary  weakness  soon  passed  away,  as  the  dogma  of  divine 
decrees  or  fate  occurred  to  his  mind.  The  blood  flowed  freer 
in  his  veins  ;  his  form  straightened,  and  with  a  dignified  gesture, 
he  answered — 

"  Heathen  !  I  have  no  death-song  to  sing.  The  Christian 
goeth  not  to  his  Maker,  boasting  of  his  fancied  merits,  but,  like 
a  child,  hiding  its  face  in  its  mother's  bosom,  and  asking  to  be 


390  THE    LOST      HUNTER. 

forgiven.  And  know  that  of  thyself  thou  art  powerless.  Thou 
canst  do  only  what  is  permitted." 

"It  is  well  !"  exclaimed  Ohquamehud,  a  glow  of  admiration, 
at  the  courage  with  which  Holden  met  his  fate,  flashing — in 
spite  of  himself — across  his  countenance,  and  which  he  vainly 
tried  to  conceal.  "  The  dog  of  a  pale-face  is  tired  of  his  life, 
and  will  thank  Ohquamehud  for  sending  him  to  the  spirits  of  his 
fathers." 

So  saying,  he  raised  the  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and  fired.  The 
eyes  of  the  Solitary  had  been  intently  fastened  upon  every 
motion  of  his  foe,  and,  the  instant  before  the  gun  was  dis 
charged,  he  threw  his  arms  violently  into  the  air.  Whether 
the  gesture  disconcerted  the  aim  of  the  Indian,  or  intemperance 
had  weakened  his  nerves,  the  rifle  was  aimed  too  high  and  failed 
of  its  mark.  But  Holden's  escape  was  extremely  narrow.  The 
bullet  grazed  his  scalp,  perforating  the  cap,  and  throwing  it 
from  his  head.  In  the  colloquy,  he  had,  probably,  determined 
upon  his  line  of  conduct ;  for,  immediately,  upon  the  flash,  he 
started,  with  an  activity  which  his  appearance  hardly  promised, 
towards  his  antagonist,  and  before  the  latter  could  club  his 
rifle  or  draw  a  knife,  had  seized  him  around  the  waist,  and 
strove  to  throw  him  on  the  ground.  The  Indian  dropped  the 
useless  gun,  and  returned  the  death-grapple. 

"  Child  of  the  devil  1"  cried  Holden,  whose  passions  were  now 
thoroughly  roused,  and  who  fancied  himself  back  again  to  the 
time  when  he  fought  the  red  man  of  the  West,  "  I  will  send  thee, 
this  day,  to  the  place  appointed  for  thee." 

Ohquamehud  answered  not  a  word,  but,  straining  the  other 
in  an  embrace  as  close  as  his  own,  summoned  all  his  powers  to 
the  deadly  struggle. 

The  two  were  more  equally  matched  than  might  at  first  be 
supposed.  The  Indian  was  more  active,  but  Holden  was 
stronger,  and  towered  above  him.  The  habits  of  Holden  had 


THE      LOST      H  U  N  T  K  R  .  B91 

been  eminently  conducive  to  health  and  strength.  There  was 
no  superfluous  flesh  about  him,  and  his  sinews  were  like  cord. 
But,  oa  the  other  hand,  the  youth  of  the  Indian  was  a  great 
advantage,  promising  an  endurance  beyond  that  to  be  expected 
from  one  of  the  years  of  Holden. 

With  desperate  struggles  each  strove  to  gain  an  advantage  ; 
but  strength  on  the  one  side,  and  activity  on  the  other,  foiled 
their  opposing  exertions.     The  turf  was  torn  up  under  their  feet, 
and  they  were  whirled  round,  now  in  this  direction,  and  now  m 
that,  until,  maddened  by  the  contest,  neither  thought  of  his  per 
sonal  safety,  nor  heeded  the  frightful  abyss  on  the  brink  of 
which  they  fought.     At   length,  foaming  and  endeavoring   to 
throttle  each  other,  the  foot  of  one  tripped  and  he  stumbled 
over   the  precipice,  carrying  the  other  down  with  him  in  his 
arms.     The  grappled  foes  turned  over  in  the  air,  and  then  fell 
upon  the  edge  of  a  projecting  shelf  of  a  rock,  some  half  a  dozen 
feet   below.     Ohquamehud  was   undermost,  .receiving  the  full 
force  of  the  fall,  and  breaking  it  for  Holden,  who,  as  they 
touched  the  rock,  threw  one  arm  around  the  trunk  of  a  small 
tree  that  grew  out  of  a  fissure.     The  Indian  must  have  been 
stunned,  for  Holden  felt  his  grasp  relax,  and,  still  clinging  to 
the  tree,  he  endeavored  to  withdraw  himself  from  the  other's 
hold.     He  had  partially  succeeded,  when  the  Indian,  recovering 
consciousness,  made  a  movement  that  threw  his  body  over  the 
precipice,  down  which  he  would  have  fallen  had  he  not  blindly 
caught  at  the  freed  arm  of  Holden,  which  he  clutched  with  the 
tenacity  of  despair.     The  Indian  had  now  recovered  from  the 
stunning  effect  of  the  fall,  and  become  sensible  of  his  danger. 
In  rolling  over  the  edge  of  the  rock,  his  moccasined  feet  had 
come  into  contact  with  a  slight  projection  where  his  toes  had 
caught,  and  by  means  of  which,  Holden,  as  well  as  himself,  was 
relieved  in  part  of  the  weight  of  his  person.     Using  this  as 
a  support,  he  made  repeated  and  frantic  attempts  to  spring  to 


392 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


the  level  surface,  but  the  steepness  of  the  rock,  and  the  lovvness 
at  which  he  hung,  combined  with  the  exhaustion  occasioned  by 
the  fierce  and  prolonged  conflict,  foiled  every  effort.    At  last,  he 
abandoned  the  attempt  to  save  himself  as  hopeless,  and  directed 
all  his  exertions  to  drag  his  enemy  down  with  him  to  destruc 
tion.     With    this  view, 'he    strained,   with    all   his   remaining 
strength,  upon  the  arm  he  grasped,  in  order  to  force  Holden 
to  let  go  his  hold  upon  the  tree.    It  was  now  a  question  of  endur 
ance  between  them,  and  it  is  probable  that  both  would  have 
perished,  had  not  an  unexpected  actor  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
The  boy  Quadaquina  had  been  watching  Ohquamehud.    Like 
a  trained  blood-hound,  he  had  kept  faithfully  on  the  track  and 
scarcely  let  the  Indian  out  of  sight  until   he  came  near  the 
village.     Here  he  was  met   by  a  playmate,  with  whom,  like  a 
child  as   he  was,  he  stopped   to  amuse  himself  for  a  moment, 
This  was  the  cause  of  his  not  arriving  sooner,  the  delay  corres 
ponding  nearly  with  the  time  Holden  was  detained  by  his  visit. 
The  boy  now  came  running  up,  all  out  of  breath,  and  gazed  around, 
but  saw  no  one  nor  heard  a  "sound,  save  the  roar  of  the  Fall 
His  eyes  fell  upon  the  gun  of  the  Indian,  and  the  cap  of  the 
Solitary,  lying  on   the  trampled  turf,  and  his  mind  foreboded 
disaster.     He  hastened  to  the  margin  of  the  beetling  era?,  and 
peering  over  it,  saw  Ohquamehud  hanging  by  Holden's"  arm, 
and  struggling  to  pull  him  down.     Quadaquina  stepped  back,' 
and  from  the  loose  stones  lying  round,  picked  up  one  as  large  as 
he  could  lift,  and  going  to  the  edge,  dropped  it  full  upon  the 
head  of  Ohquamehud.     The   Indian  instantly  let  go  his  hold, 
falling  a  distance  of  eighty  feet,  and  grazing  against  the  side  of 
the  huge  rock  on  his  way,  until  with  a  splash  he  was  swallowed 
up  in  the  foaming  water  that  whirled  him  out  of  sight. 

Quadaquina  watched  the  body  as  it  went  gliding  down  the 
rocks,  and  dashing  into  the  torrent,  until  it  could  be  seen  no 
more,  and  then,  as  if  terrified  at  his  own  act,  and  without  wait- 


THE      LOST     H  U  N  T  K  R  .  393 

ing  to  see  what  had  become  of  the  man  to  whom  he  had  render 
ed  so  timely  a  service,  started  on  a  run  for  his  home. 

As  for  Holden,  upon  the  weight  being  withdrawn  from  his 
arm,  he  slowly  gathered  himself  up  and  sat  upright  on  the  rock  ; 
nor  did  he  know  to  what  he  owed  his  deliverance.  He  possibly 
ascribed  it  to  the  exhaustion  of  his  foe.  He  felt  jar'd  and 
bruised,  but  no  bones  were  broken  :  his  heart  swelled  with 
thankfulness,  and  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  he  poured  forth  a 
thanksgiving. 

"  The  enemy  came  against  me,"  he  ejaculated,  "  like  a  lion 
that  is  greedy  of  his  prey,  and  as  it  were  a  young  lion  lurking  in 
secret  places.  But  thou  didst  arise,  0  Lord,  thou  didst  dis 
appoint  him  and  cast  him  down  ;  thou  didst  deliver  my  soul 
from  the  wicked.  For  thou  didst  gird  me  with  strength  unto 
the  battle,  thou  didst  enlarge  my  steps  under  me,  that  my  feet 
did  not  slip.  He  was  wounded  that  he  was  not  able  to  rise. 
He  fell  under  my  feet.  It  was  Thy  doing,  0  Lord,  because  thou 
hadst  respect  unto  the  supplications  of  thy  servant.  Therefore 
my  lips  shall  greatly  rejoice,  when  I  sing  unto  Thee,  and  my  soul 
which  thou  hast  redeemed." 

After  this  expression  of  his  thanks,  he  clambered  with  some 
difficulty,  by  the  assistance  of  the  shrubs  that  grew  in  the 
crevices  along  the  sloping  platform,  until  he  had  attained  to  the 
top  of  the  rock  whence  he  had  fallen.  He  cast  his  eyes  below, 
but  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the  wild  torrent :  no  sign,  no 
trace  of  the  Indian.  Holden  shuddered  as  he  thought  of  Ohqua- 
mehud,  cut  off  in  his  atrocious  attempt,  and  breathed  a  prayer 
that  his  savage  ignorance  might  palliate  his  crime  ;  then 
exhausted  and  sore,  and  pondering  the  frightful  danger  he  had 
escaped,  slowly  took  his  way  towards  the  village. 


17* 


394 


THE      LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

But  is  there  yet  no  other  way  besides 
Those  painful  passages,  how  we  may  come 
To  death,  and  mix  with  our  connatural  dust? 
"  There  is,"  said  Michael,  "  if  thou  will  observe 
The  rule  of  not  too  tmich,  by  temperance  taught. 

MILTON'S  PARADISE  LOST. 

Till  oft  converse  w  ith  heavenly  habitants, 
Begin  to  cast  a  beam  on  th'  outward  shape, 
The  unpolluted  temple  of  the  mind, 
And  turns  it  by  degrees  to  the  soul's  essence, 
Till  all  be  made  immortal. 

COMUS. 

THE  shades  of  evening  were  falling  as  Holden  entered  the 
village.  He  proceeded  straight  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Armstrong, 
whom  he  had  seen  twice  or  thrice  already  since  his  return  from 
New  York,  though  we  have  made  no  mention  of  the  visits. 

He  found  Armstrong  thinner  and  paler  than  ever.  The  con 
stitutional  melancholy  with  which  he  was  afflicted  appeared  to 
have  deepened,  and  there  was  something  now  in  the  tones  of  his 
voice  so  sad  and  tender,  that  they  moved  Holden  to  an  extra 
ordinary  degree.  Other  friends  of  Armstrong  were  affected  by 
them,  but,  with  the  exception  of  Faith,  there  was  no  one  who 
seemed  to  lay  these  signs  of  imhappiness  so  much  to  heart  as 
the  Solitary.  This,  perhaps,  may  account,  in  a  measure,  for 
the  increased  frequency  of  his  visits. 

A  smile  like  sunshine  stealing  from  behind  a  wintry  cloud 
over  the  pure  snow,  welcomed  Holden.  As  he  took  the  offered 
hand  of  Armstrong,  he  found  it  extenuated  and  cold,  and 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  395 

pressed  it  with  more  than  ordinary  feeling,  before  he  took  a 
seat  by  his  side.  The  first  inquiry  of  the  Recluse  was,  as 
usual,  after  Faith. 

«  She  is  out,"  answered  her  father,  "  but  1  expect  her  soon. 

"The  sight  of  Faith  is  to  me  as  the  beauty  and  fragrance  of 
days  long  gone,"  said  Holden.  "  Unsmiling  Eve  was  not 

more  lovely." 

"  She  was  early  dedicated  to  her  God,  and  is,  indeed,  a  meet 
offering  for  his  altar,"  said  Armstrong. 

"Blessed  are  they,"  exclaimed  Holden,  "whose  feet  have 
never  strayed  from  the  straight  and  narrow  way.  Where  they 
tread  spring  up  immortal  flowers,  and  they  breathe  the  air  of 

Paradise." 

"And,  alas!"  said  Armstrong,  "how  short  is  usually  their 
stay.  How  soon  they  depart  for  the  celestial  regions,  to  which 
they  belong,  leaving  breaking  hearts  behind  !" 

"  Woe  to  the  earth-born  selfishness,  that  riseth  up  in  opposi 
tion  !  It  is  not  agreeable  to  the  law  of  God,  nor  can  be. 
Down  with  the  rebellion  of  ignorance  and  unbelief." 

"But  is  no  allowance  to  be  made  for  human  weakness? 
May  we  not  weep  over  the  calamities  of  life  ?" 

"  Aye,  weep,  if  the  tears  wash  out  a  sin,  but  not  because  the 
divine  will  is  different  from  thine  own.  What  callest  thou 
calamity  ?  There  is  no  calamity,  but  sin." 

"It  is  hard,"  sighed  Armstrong,  "  to  reach  that  height  of 
abnegation  and  faith  to  which  you  would  have  me  aspire." 

"  Hard,  but  attainable,  for  without  faith  it  is  impossible  to 
please  Him.  There  are  examples  set  before  us  for  imitation  of 
what  the  trusting  spirit  can  achieve.  By  faith  Abraham 
offered  up  Isaac  when  he  was  tried,  having  confidence  that  God 
could  raise  him  up  even  from  the  dead.  By  faith— but  why 
should  I  recount  the  deeds  of  those  grand  souls,  of  whom  the 
world  was  not  worthy,  who,  through  faith,  subdued  kingdoms, 


396  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

wrought  righteousness,  obtained  promises,  stopped  the  mouths 
of  lions,  quenched  the  violence  of  fire,  even  from  Enoch,  who 
tasted  not  the  bitterness  of  death,  and  Elijah,  mounting  on  a 
fiery  chariot,  in  a  whirlwind,  to  heaven,  down  to  these  latter 
days,  when,  as  said  the  apostle,  '  faith  should  wax  weak,  and 
almost  perish  from  the  earth  ?'  " 

Armstrong  looked  at  Holden,  with  an  expression  like  fear. 

"  Who  is  equal  to  these  things  ?''  said  he. 

"  I  knew  a  man  once,"  said  the  Enthusiast,  thinking  of  the 
peril  he  had  just  escaped,  and  darkly  shadowing  forth  its  cir 
cumstances,  "  whom  a  ravening  lion  sought  to  destroy,  and  the 
heart  of  the  man  sunk  within  him,  for,  in  view  of  the  beast,  he 
forgot  that  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigncth,  but  an  angel 
whispered  it  in  his  ear,  and  strengthened  him,  and  he  defied 
the  lion,  and  smote  him,  and  killed  the  lion.  Thus  doth  the 
Lord  continue  to  perform  his  marvellous  works,  Jfor  he  is  faithful 
and  true,  and  Iris  mercy  endureth  for  ever  to  them  that  love 
him." 

Of  course,  Armstrong  could  have  no  correct  idea  of  what 
Holden  alluded  to,  nor  did  he  inquire.  It  was  to  him  only 
another  instance,  added  by  his  enthusiastic  friend,  to  the  long 
catalogue  of  those  in  the  sacred  record,  for  whom  faith  had 
triumphed  over  danger,  and  wrought  deliverance. 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  he  said,  "  a  mighty  means  to  bring  down  the 
divine  blessing." 

"  As  is  the  law  of  gravitation  to  the  worlds,"  said  Holden, 
looking  out  upon  the  clear  sky,  filled  with  stars,  "  which  is  the 
constant  force  flowing  from  the  living  centre  of  all  things,  and 
retaining  them  in  harmonious  movement  in  their  orbits  ;  so  is 
faith  to  the  human  soul.  When  it  is  present  all  is  peace,  and 
harmony,  and  joy  ;  when  it  is  absent,  a  wild  chaos,  whirling 
in  darkness  and  confusion,  over  which  the  Spirit  hath  never 
brooded  like  a  dove." 


T  H  K      LOST      HUNTER.  39t 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Miss  Armstrong, 
attended  by  William  Bernard,  entered  the  room.  She  advanced 
towards  Holden,  and  gave  him  her  hand,  which  he  took  into 
both  of  his,  and  looking  fondly  at  her,  said  : 

"  Dear  child,  thy  mother's  image,  the  room  is  brighter  for  thy 
presence." 

"  There,  William,"  said  Faith,  smiling,  "  a  lady  seldom 
receives  so  delicate  a  compliment." 

"  Mr.  Holden,"  said  Bernard,  "  belongs  to  the  old  school  of 
politeness,  of  which  Sir  Charles  Grandison  is  the  model. 
Modern  degeneracy  might  strive  in  vain  to  compete  with  it." 

There  was  a  slight,  a  very  slight,  an  almost  imperceptible  tone 
of  irony  about  the  words,  which  did  not  escape  the  sensitive  ear 
of  Holden.  He  turned  towards  Bernard,  and  fastened  his 
large  eyes  upon  him,  in  silence,  awhile,  before  he  said  : 

"  The  secret  of  politeness  is  to  be  found  in  warmth  and  good 
ness  of  heart.  Flame  blazes  not  up  from  ice."  The  words,  the 
tone,  the  look,  conveyed  his  estimate  of  the  character  of  the 
young  man,  and  was  not  without  influence  on  one,  at  least,  of 
his  auditors.  "  But,"  continued  he,  "  thy  presence,  Faith,  is 
truly,  to  me,  as  light.  Deemest  thou  me  capable  of  unmeaning 
compliments  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Faith,  suspecting  the  little  feeling  of  resent 
ment,  and  desirous  to  soothe  it,  "I  do  not.  Forgive  my  absurd 
observation." 

"  And  I  hope,"  said  Bernard,  in  his  most  engaging  manner, 
"  that  Mr.  Holdeu  is  not  offended  at  my  classing  him  among 
those  who  for  delicacy  and  refinement  were  never  surpassed." 

"  I  like  not,"  said  Holden,  "  to  be  made  a  subject  of  conversa 
tion.  We  will  find  a  fitter  topic." 

-  "  You  spoke  of  Faith's  resemblance  to  her  mother,"  said  Mr. 
Armstrong,  "  whose  quick  sensibility  had  also  detected  the 
jarring  string  ;  how  did  you  discover  it  ?" 


398  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

''You  forget,"  answered  Holden,  "that  in  conversation  with 
ine  you  have  spoken  of  her." 

"  But  not  described  her  appearance." 

"  The  resemblance  of  a  child  to  a  parent,  may  be  oftentimes 
deduced  from  qualities  of  the  mind,  and  traits  of  character.  The 
outer  garment  is  fitted  to  the  interior  man.  The  exterior  and 
transient  is  the  product  of  the  interior  and  permanent.  But  I 
mean  not  that  it  was  thus  I  discovered  the  likeness  ;  and  if  for  a 
moment  I  misled  thee,  let  me  correct  my  error  and  thy  mistake. 
You  will  consider  these  as  the  speculations  of  a  visionary." 

"  I  do  not  consider  them  without  foundation,"  said  Armstrong, 
who,  in  the  turn  given  to  the  conversation,  seemed  to  have  for 
gotten  his  question. 

"It  is  a  speculation  which,  followed  out,  might  lead  to  many 
interesting  conclusions,"  said  Bernard.  "  Mr.  Holden  would 
greatly  oblige  us  with  his  ideas." 

"Do,"  said  Faith,  who  delighted  in  the  Solitary's  flights. 
"  Explain,  dear  Mr.  Holden,  your  theory." 

Holden  looked  at  Mr.  Armstrong,  who  bowed. 

"  The  first  man,  Adam,"  said  Holden,  "  was  created  perfect, 
perfect  in  body  as  in  mind.  The  dignity  and  beauty  of  his 
person  corresponded  to  the  grandeur  and  purity  of  his  soul,  of 
which  it  was  the  outward  expression.  All  graces  and  harmo 
nies,  and  perfections  of  creation  centered  in  him,  for  he  was 
the  image  of  his  Maker.  He  was  incapable  of  disease,  because 
disease  is  disharmony  and  the  fruit  of  sin,  which  as  yet  existed 
not.  And  he  was  obedient  unto  the  voice  of  the  Lord,  nor  did  he 
transgress  His  laws  in  anything.  His  meat  was  the  herb  of  the 
field  and  the  fruit  of  the  tree,  and  his  drink  the  running  brook. 
He  had  no  permission  to  eat  of  flesh.  But  in  an  evil  hour  he 
fell  :  a  leprosy  overspread  his  body  and  his  soul  ;  the  divine 
purity  could  not  approach  as  before  ;  and  to  his  closed  spiritual 
eyes,  the  holy  Presence  once  visible,  became  shrouded  in  clouds 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  399 

and  thick  darkness.  Arid  as  the  spirit  of  man  waxed  more  cor 
rupt  and  he  withdrew  himself  further  from  his  heavenly  source, 
so  did  his  outward  appearance,  by  a  necessary  law,  whereby  the 
outer  and  superficial  conformeth  itself,  to  the  inner  and  hidden, 
become  deformed  and  hideous.  Hence  is  man  now  but  a  shadow, 
a  skeleton  of  original  beauty.  The  primeval  perfection  and 
present  degeneracy  of  man,  are  the  tradition  of  centuries." 

Holden  paused  ;  and  Faith  said,  gently,  "  There  is  a  way  to 
regain  the  happiness  we  have  lost." 

"There  is  a  way,"  said  Holden,  " through  Him,  the  second 
Adam,  the  Lord  from  heaven.  But  mark  :  like  him,  must  man 
be  obedient.  A  faith  without  works  is  fruitless  and  naught. 
How  many  imagine  they  have  faith,  and  have  it  not  !  Will  they 
give  their  bodies  to  be  burned  ?  Will  they  sacrifice  the  dearest 
thing  they  have,  if  it  is  His  will  ?  Nay,  but  faith  hath  almost 
perished  from  the  earth." 

Bernard  observing  Holden  wandering  from  his  subject,  here 
inquired.  "  And  by  a  reversal  of  the  process  by  which  it  was 
lost,  the  outward  beauty  may  be  recovered  ?'' 

"  Yes.  By  the  restoration  of  internal  beauty.  It  is  the  latter 
that  shapeth  and  shineth  through  the  former.  But  the  eyes  of 
men  are  blinded,  and  they  cannot,  because  they  will  not,  see  the 
truth.  The  crust  of  inherited  corruption  interposeth  betwixt 
them  and  the  light.  Hence,  having  eyes  they  see  not,  and  ears, 
and  they  cannot  hear.  There  is  a  law  to  control  the  spiritual, 
and  a  law  for  the  material,  and  it  is  by  observance  of  these  two 
laws,  that  man's  first  estate  is  to  be  regained.  He  must,  there 
fore  be  temperate,  and  sober,  and  wise  in  the  regulation  of  his 
appetites  and  passions,  banishing  those  pernicious  inventions, 
whereby  he  degradeth  and  engendereth  disease  in  a  glorious 
structure  that  ought  to  be  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
must  diligently  cultivate  all  noble  aspirations,  weeding  out 
selfishness  and  gross  desires,  loving  his  neighbor  as  himself,  and 


400 


THK      LOST      HUNTER. 


the  Lord  his  God  with  all  his  heart,  which  latter  is  the  admira 
tion  and  love  of  beauty,  and  truth  and  justice,  and  of  whatever 
is  excellent.  Thus  both  outwardly  and  irwardly  will  gradually 
be  transformed,  the  marred  and  defaced  image  of  humanity  into 
the  glorious  likeness  of  the  Son  of  God." 

"  That  day  so  Longed  for  and  so  glorious,  is  far  distant  I  fear," 
said  Mr.  Armstrong. 

'  Nay,  but  the  signs  of  His  corning  are  kindling  in  the  Eastern 
sky,"  exclaimed  Holden,  "  and  soon  amid  the  hymns  and  hallelu 
jahs  of  saints  shall  he  establish  His  benign  and  resplendent 
empire.  Then  shall  commence  the  upward  career  of  the  race, 
whose  earthly  goal  is  the  state  of  primeval  perfection  ;  whose 
heavenly  it  hath  not  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive. 
Then  in  that  bright  Millennium,  whose  radiance  streams  through 
the  advancing  ages,  shall  man  cast  off  the  slough  of  ignorance 
and  sin,  and  rise  like  the  painted  butterfly,  on  the  wings  of  faith, 
into  the  serene  air  of  truth." 

Our  readers  must  not  hold  us  responsible  for  the  sentiments 
of  Holden.  They  are  his  own,  and  no  one's  else,  and  expressed 
in  his  own  words,  with  all  their  wildness  and  incoherence. 
Opinions  like  these  seem  to  have  prevailed  at  all  periods  of  the 
Christian  era.  They  were  entertained  in  the  times  of  the 
Apostles,  and  are  cherished  now  by  a  modern  sect.  Milton 
alludes  to  them  in  his  treatise  "Of  Reformation  in  England" 
in  language  which  for  its  stately  eloquence,  deserves  to  be  tran 
scribed  to  enrich  this  page.  He  speaks  "  of  that  day  when 
Thou,  the  eternal  and  shortly-expected  King,  shalt  open  the  clouds 
to  judge  the  several  kingdoms  of  the  world,  and  distributing 
national  honors  and  rewards  to  religious  and  just  commonwealths, 
shalt  put  an  end  to  all  earthly  tyrannies,'  proclaiming  thy  univer 
sal  and  mild  monarchy  through  heaven  and  earth  ;  when  they 
undoubtedly,  that  by  their  labors,  counsels,  and  prayers,  have  been 
earnest  for  the  common  good  of  religion,  and  their  country,  shall 


THE      L  0  S  T      H  U  N  T  E  R  .  401 

receive  above  the  inferior  orders  of  the  blessed,  the  regal  addi 
tions  of  principalities,  legions,  and  thrones,  into  their  glorious 
titles,  and  in  super-eminence  of  beatific  vision,  progressing  the 
dateless  and  irrevoluble  circ-le  of  eternity,  shall  clasp  inseparable 
hands  with  joy  and  bliss  in  over-measure  for  ever." 

His  auditors  never  thought  of  reasoning  with  or  contradicting 
the  enthusiast.  They  listened  in  silence,  only  when  he  paused, 
making  some  inquiry  or  suggestion,  in  order  to  induce  him  to 
develop  his  notions  still  further ;  and  so  in  conversation  of  this 
kind  passed  the  evening. 

Upon  the  departure  of  Bernard,  Holdeu  was  pressed  to  pass 
the  night  at  his  host's,  and  accepted  the  invitation.  The  events 
of  the  day  had  proved  to  be  too  much  for  even  his  iron  frame, 
and  he  was  not  unwilling  to  be  relieved  of  the  long  walk  to  his 
hut.  Before  retiring,  he  listened  reverently  to  a  chapter  from 
the  Bible,  read  by  Armstrong,  and  joined  with  him  and  Faith, 
in  their  customary  devotions. 


402 


THE      LOST     HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XXXYIII. 

No  man  who  sinks  to  sleep  at  night 

Knows  what  his  dreams  shall  b"e  ; 
No  man  can  know  what  wonder-sight 

His  inner  eye  shall  see. 

THOMAS  L.  HARRIS. 

WHEN  Holden  was  left  alone  in  his  chamber,  he  sank  into  a 
seat  and  covered  his  face  with  both  hands.  He  remained  in 
this  position  for  some  time,  and  when  he  removed  them,  it  was 
very  pale,  and  exhibited  traces  of  strong  emotion.  He  cast  his 
eyes  slowly  around  the  room,  examining  every  part,  not  even 
the  furniture  escaping  minute  observation.  But  of  all  the 
objects  a  portrait  that  hung  over  the  fireplace  attracted  the 
most  attention.  It  was '  that  of  a  man,  past  the  prime  of  life, 
and  who  in  youth  must  have  possessed  considerable  beauty. 
The  features  were  regular  and  well-formed,  the  forehead  high 
and  broad,  and  the  hair  long  and  abundant,  waving  in  curls  over 
the  shoulders.  What  was  the  age  designed  to  be  portrayed,  it 
was  difficult  to  determine  with  any  degree  of  exactness,  for 
there  was  a  contradiction  between  the  parts  which  appeared 
scarcely  reconcilable  with  one  another.  Looking  at  the  fur 
rows  that  seamed  the  face,  its  pallor,  and  the  wrinkles  of  the 
brow,  one  would  have  said  that  the  original  must  have  been  a 
man  between  sixty  and  seventy,  while  the  hair,  dark  and  glossy, 
indicated  much  less  age.  Yet,  the  perfection  of  the  drawing, 
the  flesh-like  tints  that  melted  into  each  other,  and  the  air  of 
reality  that  stamped  the  whole,  proclaimed  the  portrait  the  work 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  403 

of  a  master,  and  it  was  impossible  to  avoid  the  conviction  that 
it  was  an  authentic  likeness. 

Holden  placed  the  caudle  on  the  mantelpiece  in  such  a  manner 
as  best  to  throw  light  upon  the  picture,  and  stood  at  a  little 
distance  to  contemplate  it.  As  he  gazed,  he  began  to  fancy  he 
discovered  traits  which  had  at  first  escaped  his  observation.  An 
expression  of  pain  and  anxious  sadness  overspread  the  face,  and 
gleams  of  light,  like  the  glare  of  insanity,  shot  from  the  eyes. 
So  strong  was  the  impression,  and  so  deeply  was  he  affected, 
that  as  if  incapable  of  enduring  the  sight,  he  shut  his  eyes, 
and  turning  away,  paced  several  times  backwards  and  forwards, 
without  looking  up.  After  a  few  turns,  he  stopped  before  the 
portrait,  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  it  again,  but  only  for  a  moment, 
to  resume  his  walk.  This  he  did  repeatedly,  until  at  last,  with 
a  groan,  he  dropped  into  a  chair,  where,  crossing  his  arms  upon 
his  breast,  he  remained  for  awhile  lost  in  thought.  Who  can 
say  wha.t  were  the  reflections  that  filled  his  mind  ?  Was  he 
considering  whether  the  painter  meant  to  delineate  insanity,  or 
whether  it  was  not  a  delusion  springing  from  his  own  disordered 
intellect  ? 

It  was  a  long  time  before  slSep  visited  the  Solitary  in  his  soft 
and  curtained  bed.  It  might  be  owing  to  the  events  of  the  day, 
so  startling  and  unusual  ;  it  might  be  on  account  of  the  yield 
ing  bed,  so  different  from  his  own  hard  couch  ;  or  in  consequence 
of  the  effect  produced  by  the  portrait  ;  or  of  all  these  causes 
combined,  that  sleep  was  long  in  coming,  and  when  it  did 
come,  was  disturbed  with  dreams,  and  unrefreshing.  Before, 
however,  Holden  fell  asleep,  ho  had  lain,  as  if  under  the 
influence  of  a  spell,  looking  at  the  picture  on  which  the  beams 
of  the  moon,  stealing  through  the  branches  of  the  large  elm 
that  shaded  the  house,  flickered  uncertainly  and  with  a  sort  of 
wierd  effect,  as  the  night  wind  gently  agitated  the  leaves. 

It  seemed  to  Holden,  so  insensibly  glided   his  last  waking 


404 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


thought  into  his  dreams  making  one  continuous  whole,  that  the 
portrait  he  had  been  looking  at  was  a  living  person,  and  he 
was  astonished  that  he  had  mistaken  a  living  being  for  a  piece 
of  painted  canvas.  In  a  stern,  deep  voice  the  man  who  had 
taken  possession  of  the  chair  in  which  he  himself  had  been 
sitting,  ordered  him  to  approach.  If  Holdeu  had  been  so  dis 
posed,  he  had  no  ability  to  disobey  the  command.  He,  there 
fore  advanced  towards  the  figure,  and  at  a  signal  knelt  down  at 
his  feet.  The  man,  thereupon,  stretching  out  his  hands,  laid 
them  upon  his  head  in  the  attitude  of  benediction.  He  then  rose 
from  his  seat,  and  making  a  sign  to  Holden  to  follow  him,  they 
noiselessly  descended  the  stairs  together,  and  passed  into  the 
moonlight..  The  man  constantly  preceding  him,  they  went  on, 
and  by  familiar  paths  and  roads,  and  in  the  ordinary  time  that 
would  be  required  to  accomplish  the  distance,  arrived  at  a  spot 
on  the  banks  of  the  Wootuppocut  well  known  to  Holden.  Here 
the  stranger  stopped,  and  seating  himself  upon  the  trunk  of  a 
felled  tree,  motioned  to  his  companion  to  be  seated.  Holden 
obeyed,  waiting  for  what  should  follow.  Presently  he  saw  two 
figures,  a  male  and  female,  approaching.  The  latter  was  veiled, 
and  although  the  face  of  the  man  was  exposed,  it  swam  in  such 
a  hazy  indistinctness  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  out  the 
features.  Still  it  seemed  to  him  that  they  were  not  entirely 
unknown,  and  he  tormented  himself  with  ineffectual  attempts  to 
determine  where  he  had  seen  them.  He  turned  to  his  guide  to 
ask  who  they  were,  but  before  he  could  speak  the  stranger  of 
the  portrait  placed  his  fingers  on  his  lips,  as  if  to  require 
silence.  The  two  persons  advanced  until  they  reached  a  small 
brook  that  babbled  down  a  ravine,  and  fell  into  the  river. 
Suddenly  something  glittered  in  the  air  ;  the  figures  vanished  ; 
and  upon  looking  at  the  brook  Holden  beheld,  to  his  horror, 
that  it  was  red  like  blood.  He  turned  in  amazement  to  his 
guide,  who  made  no  reply  to  the  look  of  inquiry,  unless  the  word 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  405 

"  Friday,"  which  he  uttered  in  the  same  deep  tone,  can  be  so 
considered. 

Holden  awoke,  and  the  sweat  was  standing  in  great  drops  on 
his  forehead.  As  his  senses  and  recollection  were  gradually 
returning,  he  directed  his  eyes  towards  the  place  where  the  por 
trait  hung,  half  in  doubt  whether  he  should  see  it  again.  The 
beams  of  the  moon  no  longer  played  upon  it,  but  there  was  suf 
ficient  light  in  the  room  to  enable  him  to  distinguish  the  fea 
tures  which  now,  more  an*  more  distinctly  emerged  to  sight. 
The  hollow  eyes  were  fixed  on  his,  and  the  word  "Friday" 
seemed  still  quivering  on  the  lips. 

Holden  lay  and  thought  over  his  dream.  With  the  young 
and  imaginative,  dreams  are  not  uncommon,  but  with  the 
advanced  in  life  they  are  usually  unfrequent.  As  the  fancy 
decays, — as  the  gay  illusions  that  brightened  our  youth  disap 
pear,  to  give  place  to  realities, — as  the  blood  that  once  rushed 
hurriedly,  circulates  languidly— farewell  to  the  visions  that  in 
storm  or  sunshine  flitted  around  our  pillows. 

It  cannot,  indeed,  be  said  that  Holden  never  had  dreams. 
The  excitable  temperament  of  the  man  would  forbid  the  suppo 
sition,  but,  even  with  him,  they  were  uncommon.  He  turned 
the  one  he  had  just  had  over  and  over  again,  in  his  mind  ;  but, 
reflect  upon  it  as  he  pleased,  he  could  make  nothing  out  of  it, 
and,  at  last,  with  a  sense  of  dissatisfaction  and  endeavoring  to 
divert  his  mind  from  thoughts  that  banished  sleep,  he  forgot 
himself  again. 

His  slumbers  were  broken  and  harassed  throughout  the 
night,  with  horrid  dreams  and  vague  anticipations  of  further 
evil.  At  one  time  he  was  at  his  cabin,  and  his  son  lay  bleeding 
in  his  arms,  pierced  by  the  bullet  of  Ohquamehud.  At  another, 
Faith  was  drowning,  and  stretching  out  her  hands  to  him  for 
succor,  and  as  he  attempted  to  hasten  to  her  assistance,  her 


406  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

father  interfered  and  held  him  violently  back.  And  at  another, 
he  was  falling  from  an  immeasurable  height,  with  the  grip  of 
the  Indian  at  his  throat.  Down — down  he  fell,  countless  miles, 
through  a  roaring  chaos,  trying  to  save  himself  from  strangula 
tion,  until,  just  as  he  was  about  to  be  dashed  to  pieces  against 
a  rock,  he  awoke  sore  and  feverish. 

The  sun  was  already  some  distance  above  the  horizon  as 
Holden  rose  from  his  troubled  slumbers.  The  cool  air  of  morn 
ing  flowed  with  a  refreshing  sweetness  through  the  open  win 
dow,  and  the  birds  were  singing  in  the  branches  of  the  large 
elm.  With  a  feeling  of  welcome  he  beheld  the  grateful  light. 
He  endeavored  to  recall  and  reduce  to  some  coherency  the 
wild  images  of  his  dreams,  but  all  was  confusion,  which  became 
the  more  bewildering,  the  longer  he  dwelt  upon  them,  and 
the  more  he  strove  to  untangle  the  twisted  skein.  All  that  he 
could  now  distinctly  remember,  were  the  place  whither  he  had 
been  led,  and  the  word  spoken  by  the  portrait. 

When  he  descended  to  breakfast,  both  Mr.  Armstrong  and 
his  daughter  remarked  his  disordered  appearance,  and  anxiously 
inquired,  how  he  had  passed  the  night.  To  these  inquiries,  he 
frankly  admitted,  that  he  had  been  disturbed  by  unpleasant 
dreams. 

"  You  look,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong,  "  like  the  portrait  which 
hangs  in  the  chamber  where  you  slept.  It  is,"  he  continued, 
unheeding  the  warning  looks  of  Faith,  "  the  portrait  of  my 
father,  and  was  taken  a  short  time  before  he  was  seized  with 
what  was  called  a  fit  of  insanity,  and  which  was  said  to  have 
hastened  his  death. 

"  How  is  it  possible,  dear  father,  you  can  say  so  ?'7  said 
Faith,  anxious  to  prevent  an  impression  she  was  afraid  might 
be  made  on  Holden's  mind. 

"  I  do  not  mean,"  continued  Armstrong,  with  a  singular  per- 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  407 

sistency,  "  that  Mr.  Holden's  features  resemble  the  portrait  very 
much  ;  but  there  is  something  which  belongs  to  the  two  in  com 
mon.  Strange  that  I  never  thought  of  it  before  !" 

Holden  during  the  conversation  had  sat  with  drooping  lids, 
and  a  sad  and  grieved  expression,  and  now,  as  he  raised  his 
eyes,  he  said,  mournfully — 

"  Thou  meanest,  James,  that  I,  too,  am  insane.  May  Heaven 
grant  that  neither  thou  nor  thine  may  experience  the  sorrow  of 
so  great  a  calamity." 

Faith  was  inexpressibly  shocked.  Had  any  one  else  spoken 
thus,  with  a  knowledge  of  Holden's  character,  she  would  have 
considered  him  unfeeling  to  the  last  degree,  but  she  knew  her 
father's  considerateness  and  delicacy  too  well  to  ascribe  it  to 
any  other  cause  than  to  a  wandering  of  thought,  which  had  of 
late  rapidly  increased,  and  excited  in  her  mind  an  alarm  which 
she  trembled  to  give  shape  to.  Before  she  could  interpose, 
Armstrong  again  spoke — 

"  Insane  1"  he  said.  "  What  is  it  to  be  insane  ?  It  is  to 
have  faculties  exalted  beyond  the  comprehension  of  the  multi 
tude  ;  to  soar  above  the  grovelling  world.  Their  eyes  are  too 
weak  to  bear  the  glory,  and,  because  they  are  blind,  they  think 
others  cannot  see.  The  fools  declared  my  father  was  insane. 
They  say  the  same  of  you,  Holden-  and,  the  next  thing,  I  shall 
be  insane,  I  suppose.  Ha,  ha  1" 

Holdeii  himself  was  startled.  He  muttered  something  indis 
tinctly  before  he  answered — 

11  May  the  world  never  say  that  of  thee,  dear  James  !" 

"  Why  not  ?"  inquired  Armstrong,  eagerly.  "  Alas  !  you 
consider  me  unworthy  to  be  admitted  to  the  noble  band  of  mis 
understood  and  persecuted  men  ?  True,  true  !  I  know  it  to  be 
true.  My  earthly  instincts  fetter  me  to  earth.  Of  the  earth,  I 
am  earthy.  But  what  shall  prevent  my  standing  afar  off,  to 
admire  them  ?  What  a  foolish  world  is  this  !  Were  not  the 


408  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

prophets  and  apostles  denounced  as  insane  men  ?     I  have  it,  I 
have  it,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "  inspiration  is  insanity." 
Hololen    looked    inquiringly   at    Faith,    whose    countenance 

evinced  great  distress  ;  then,  turning  to  Armstrong,  he  said 

"  Thou  art  not  well,  James.  Perhaps,  like  me,  thou  hast 
passed  a  disturbed  night  ?" 

"  I  have,  of  late  been  unable  to  sleep  as  well  as  formerly," 
said  Armstrong.  "  There  is  a  pain  here,"  he  added,  touching 
his  forehead,  "  which  keeps  me  awake." 

"  Thou  needest  exercise.  Thou  dost  confine  thyself  too  much. 
Go  more  into  the  open  air,  to  drink  in  the  health  that  flows 
down  from  the  pure  sky." 

"  It  is  what  I  urge  frequently  on  my  dear  father,"  said  Faith. 
"  Faith  is  an  angel,"  said  Holden.     "  Listen  to  her  advice. 
Thou  canst  have  no  better  guide." 

"  She  shall  redeem  my  soul  from  death,"  said  Armstrong. 
When  Holden  left  the  house  of  his  host,  he  determined  to 
carry  into  effect  a  resolution  which,  it  appeared  now  to  himself, 
he  had  strangely  delayed,  such  was  the  influence  what  he  had  just 
seen  and  heard  exercised  over  him.  That  Fate  or  mathemati 
cal  Providence,  however,  in  which  he  so  devoutly  believed,  not 
withstanding  he  acted  as  though  none  existed,  seemed  as  if, 
tired  out  with  his  procrastination  and  irresolution,  determined 
to  precipitate  events  arid  force  him  to  lift  the  veil,  that  for  so 
many  years — with  a  wayward  temper  and  love  of  mystery,  inex 
plicable  by  any  motives  that  regulate  the  movements  of  ordi 
nary  minds — he  had  chosen  to  spread  around  himself.  What 
followed  only  convinced  him  more  thoroughly,  if  that  were  pos 
sible,  of  his  helplessness  on  the  surging  tide  of  life  and  of  the 
delusion  of  those  who  imagine  they  are  aught  but  bubbles, 
breaking  now  this  moment,  now  that,  according  to  a  predeter 
mined  order. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  409 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

We  receive  but  what  we  give 
And  in  our  life  alone  does  nature  live. 

COLERIDGE. 

MR.  ARMSTRONG  was  disposed  to  gratify  his  daughter,  and  to 
follow  the  advice  of  Holden.  That  very  morning,  soon  after 
the  departure  of  the  Solitary,  he  accepted  an  invitation  from 
Judge  Bernard,  to  take  a  drive  with  him  to  one  of  his  farms  in 
the  afternoon.  Accordingly,  the  one-horse  chaise,  which  was 
the  usual  vehicle  in  those  days,  of  gentlemen  who  drove  them 
selves,  stopped,  late  in  the  day,  at  Armstrong's  door. 

"  Anne  hopes,"  said  the  Judge,  as  they  were  about  to  start, 
"  that  in  retaliation  for  my  capture  of  your  father,  Faith,  you 
will  come  and  take  possession  of  her.  For  my  own  part,  if  I  can 
bring  him  back  with  a  little  more  color  in  his  cheeks,  I  shall 
expect  a  kiss  or  two." 

''You  shall  have  three,  dear  Judge,  for  every  smile  you  can 
win  from  father,"  exclaimed  Faith. 

The  road  which  the  gentlemen  took,  led,  at  first,  after  leaving 
the  table-land  on  which  their  houses  were  situated,  through  the 
thickly-settled  and  business  part  of  the  town,  at  the  head  of 
the  Severn,  the  whole  of  which  it  traversed,  and  then  approach 
ing  the  banks  of  the  Wootiippocut,  followed  its  windings  in  a 
direction  towards  its  source.  The  country  through  which  the 
river  flowed  presented  an  appearance  of  soft  and  varied  beauty, 
the  view  of  which,  while  the  cool  breeze  across  the  stream 
fanned  the  fevered  brain  of  Armstrong,  ought,  if  anything 

18 


410  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

could,  to  have  soothed  his  jarring  nerves,  and  breathed  a  por 
tion  of  its  own  tranquillity  into  his  heart.  Is  it  not  true  what 
the  sweet  poet  sings  of  Nature  and  her  lover,  that 

"  She  glides 

Into  his  darker  musings  with  a  mild 
And  gentle  sympathy,  that  steals  away 
Their  sharpness  ere  he  is  aware  V" 

The  river,  for  the  greater  part  of  the  drive,  flowed  through 
a  valley,  which  it  divided  into  two  very  unequal  portions,  skirt 
ing  occasionally  with  its  left  bank  the  woods  that  ran  quite 
down  the  sides  of  the  hills  to  the  water,  and  then  winding  away 
to  the  right,  leaving  considerable  intervals  of  level  land  betwixt 
itself  and  the  woods  above  mentioned,  but,  almost  invariably, 
having  still  wider  expanses  of  champaign,  that  gradually 
ascended  from  the  stream,  until  it  met  the  forest-covered  hills 
that  bounded  the  valley,  on  the  right.  In  some  instances,  the 
woods  extended  on  both  sides  down  to  the  river,  throwiisg  an 
agreeable  shade  over  the  way-farers,  and  shedding  abroad  a 
cool,  moist  freshness,  that  brought  with  itself  a  woodland-scent, 
compounded  of  the  fragrance  of  sassafras,  and  fern,  and  sweet- 
briar,  and  mosses,  and  unknown  plants.  Then,  again  the  road 
would  run  for  a  considerable  distance  through  an  open  space, 
unshaded  by  trees,  to  cross,  a  little  further  on,  another  belt  of 
woods,  thus  making  their  darkened  recesses  doubly  grateful 
from  the  contrast  of  alternating  light  and  shade,  while  all  along 
the  stream  murmured  a  soft  expression  of  thanks  for  the  lovely 
country  it  irrigated,  for  the  blue  sky,  that  mirrored  itself  in  its 
bosom  with  floating  clouds,  for  the  sunshine  sparkling  on  its 
ripples,  and  for  the  overhanging  woods,  and  birds,  that  sung 
among  the  branches. 

The  disordered  spirit  of  Armstrong  was  not  insensible  to  the 
charm.  He  gazed  round,  and  drank  in  the  beauty  by  which  he 
was  surrounded.  He  scented  the  sweetness  of  the  woods,  and 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  411 

it  seemed  to  impart  an  agreeable  exhilaration.  In  the  pauses 
of  the  conversation,  hitherto  carried  on  almost  entirely  by 
Judge  Bernard,  he  listened  to  the  monotonous,  yet  soothing 
flow  of  the  water,  and  it  sounded  like  an  invitation  to  cast  off 
trouble.  As  he  listened  the  shooting  pain  in  his  head  dimin 
ished,  his  thoughts  became  less  sombre,  and  he  surrendered  him 
self  to  something  like  enjoyment.  Very  soon  it  seemed  as  if  he 
were  exerting  himself  to  be  agreeable  to  his  companion,  and  to 
make  up,  by  taking  a  more  active  part  in  the  conversation,  for 
former  silence  and  neglect. 

"  This  clear  river,"  he  said,  "  this  beautiful  valley,  with  its 
quiet  woods,  are  a  blessing  to  me  to-day.  It  is  a  pleasure  to 
breathe  the  air.  Has  Italy  bluer  skies  ?" 

"  The  encomiums  of  travellers  on  the  skies  of  Italy  are  to  be 
received  by  us  with  some  qualification,"  answered  the  Judge. 
"  They  are  mostly  written  by  Englishmen,  and  the  comparisoa 
is  between  the  humid  climate  of  England  and  the  drier  one  of 
Italy.  This  being  borne  in  mind,  the  praises  lavished  on 
Italian  skies  are  just.  But  as  compared  with  ours,  they  can 
boast  of  little  or  no  superiority  in  beauty.  I  have  seen  as  gor 
geous  heavens  in  my  own  country  as  ever  glorified  the  land  of 
the  Caesars." 

"  And  how  is  it  with  the  landscape?" 

"  There  we  must  yield  to  Europe.  We  have  nothing  to  be 
compared  with  the  grandeur  of  the  Swiss  mountains,  or  the 
combination  of  loveliness  and  magnificence  around  the  lake  of 
Geneva." 

"  But  Niagara  !" 

"  Aye,  Niagara  !  unequalled  and  alone.  There  can  be  but 
one  Niagara." 

"  And  the  Alleghany  and  White  Mountains  ?" 

"  Fine  scenery,  but  hills  in  comparisou  with  the  mountains  of 
Switzerland." 


412  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"  And  now  for  the  works  of  man.  You  must  have  been 
struck  by  the  contrast  between  the  towns  in  our  own  country 
and  in  Europe," 

"  Yes,  certainly,  the  difference  is  great." 

"  In  what  does  it  consist  ?" 

"  Principally  in  the  newness  of  the  one,  and  the  oldness  of  the 
other.  There,  what  one  sees  reminds  him  of  the  past ;  here,  he 
beholds  only  presentiments  of  the  future." 

"  There  is  a  great  difference,  I  am  told,  and  read  too,  in  the 
style  of  building." 

"  You  may  well  say  that.  Here  there  is  no  style.  Our 
houses  are  models  of  bad  taste,  and  pretty  much  all  alike.  The 
time  will  undoubtedly  come  when  we  shall  have  a  domestic 
architecture,  but  it  will  require  some  years  before  we  get  rid 
of  narrow  cornices,  innumerable  small  windows,  and  exclusive 
white  paint." 

"  You  should  make  allowances  for  us,"  said  Armstrong, 
deprecatingly.  "  Consider  the  poverty  of  a  new  country,  and 
the  material  that  poverty  compels  us  to  use." 

"  I  am  willing  to  allow  the  excuse  all  the  weight  it  deserves, 
but  I  cannot  understand  how  poverty  can  be  an  excuse  for  bad 
taste,  or  why  because  wood  is  used,  a  house  may  not  be  made 
to  have  an  attractive  appearance.  I  think  there  are  other 
reasons  more  efficacious  than  the  plea  of  poverty,  which  can, 
indeed,  no  longer  be  made." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Armstrong,  "you  do  not  love  anything 
about  us  Puritans,  and  your  objections,  if  politeness  would  allow 
you  to  speak  them  out  plainly,  would  be  found  to  contain  a 
fling  at  Calvin's  children  ;  but  hearken,  if  I  cannot  find  excuses 
to  satisfy  even  you." 

"  I  shall  listen  eagerly,  but  must  correct  you  in  one  thing.  I 
not  only  love  some  things  about  the  Puritans,  but  some  Puritans 
themselves." 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  413 

"Surely,  I  know  it.  But  now  listen  to  ray  defence.  The 
first  settlement  of  the  country  was  attended  with  a  great  many 
hardships.  The  country  was  colder  than  the  immigrants  were 
accustomed  to  ;  they  arrived  in  the  winter,  and  the  first  thing 
to  be  attended  to  was  to  secure  shelter.  Under  these  circum 
stances  you  will  admit  that  attention  to  the  principles  of  archi 
tecture  was  not  to  be  expected.  They  knocked  up  houses  as 
cheaply,  and  plainly,  and  rapidly  as  possible,  content  if  they 
kept  out  wind  and  weather.  Wood  was  preferred,  because  it 
was  cheaper,  and  quicker  worked.  Thus  lived  the  first  genera 
tion.  The  condition  of  the  second  was  somewhat  improved  ; 
they  had  become  accustomed  to  their  houses  and  were  tolerably 
satisfied.  The  third  had  never  seen  anything  better,  and  not 
having  the  means  of  comparison,  could  not  make  it  to  their  own 
disadvantage,  and  finally,  as  man  is  a  creature  of  custom  and 
habit,  and  reverence,  they  learned  to  regard  a  style  of  building 
that  had  sprung  out  of  the  necessities  of  their  ancestors,  as  an 
evidence  not  only  of  good  sense,  but  of  good  taste.  The  immi 
grants,  arriving  from  time  to  time,  might  have  disabused  them, 
but  these  would  naturally  fall  into  the  ways  and  sentiments  of 
the  people,  and  were  their  tastes  ever  so  ambitious,  probably 
had  not  the  means  to  gratify  them.  This  is  the  origin,  and  thus 
is  to  be  explained  the  continuance  of  American  architec 
ture." 

"  An  architecture,"  said  the  Judge,  "  that  would  have  driven 
a  Greek  out  of  his  senses.  But  though  I  will  nof  quarrel  with 
you  about  its  origin,  does  not  its  perpetuation  for  so  long  a  time 
affect  the  character  of  our  countrymen  for  taste  ?" 

"  It  will  pass  away,"  said  Armstrong,  gloomily,  "  and  with  it 
the  stern  virtues  that  are  of  more  importance  than  a  trifle  like 
this." 

"  There  can  be  no  connection  between  an  improvement  in 
architecture,  and  a  deterioration  of  morals.'' 


414  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"  Prosperity  brings  wealth,  and  wealth  is  the  means  to  gratify 
the  caprices  of  luxury  and  taste.  Perhaps,  at  some  future  day 
when  stone  and  marble  shall  have  susperseded  wood  and  brick  ; 
and  magnificent  Grecian  and  Gothic  temples,  resplendent  in 
stained  glass,  taken  the  places  of  the  humble,  unpretentious 
meeting-houses,  the  thoughtful  and  judicious  will  sigh  for  those 
times  of  primitive  simplicity,  when  an  humble  heart  was  more 
than  an  ostentatious  offering,  and  God's  word  was  listened  to 
devoutly  on  hard  seats  instead  of  being  dozed  over  in  cushioned 
pews." 

"  You  are  becoming  gloomy,  Armstrong,"  said  the  Judge. 
«'  This  will  never  do.  Progress,  man,  progress  I  tell  you  is  the 
word.  The  world  is  improving  every  day.  Banish  these  sick 
fancies." 

Armstrong  shook  his  head.  "I  envy  you,"  he  said,  "your 
hopeful  and  joyous  spirit,  while  I  know  you  are  mistaken." 

"Well,  well,  my  friend,  I  wish  I  could  give  you  a  portion  of 
it.  But  to  come  back  to  where  we  started  from.  After  finding 
so  much  fault,  it  is  time  to  praise.  However  we  may  ridicule 
the  ugliness  of  our  houses,  this  much  must  be  admitted  in  favor 
of  our  villages  and  country  towns,  that  in  cleanliness  and  an 
appearance  of  substantial  comfort,  they  infinitely  surpass  their 
rivals  in  Europe.  I  do  not  except  the  villages  in  England. 
Who  can  walk  through  one  of  our  New  England  country  towns, 
where  majestic  elms  throw  their  shadows  over  spacious  streets, 
and  the  whitfc  rose  clambers  over  the  front  doors  of  the  neat, 
white  painted  houses,  standing  back  a  rod  or  two  from  the  street 
with  gardens  stretching  behind,  while  Peace  and  Plenty  bless 
the  whole,  and  not  be  grateful  for  a  scene  so  fair,  for  a  land  so 
fortunate  1" 

They  had  now  arrived  in  sight  of  the  Judge's  farm-house, 
which  stood  at  some  distance  from  the  main  road,  from  which  a 
lane  planted  on  both  sides  with  maples,  led  to  it.  As  they 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  415 

drove  along  the  Judge  pointed  out  the  changes  he  had  made 
since  he  became  the  owner. 

"  When  I  purchased  the  property,'7  he  said,  "  the  house 
looked  very  differently.  It  was  stuck  full  of  little  insignificant 
windows  that  affected  me  like  staring  eyes  ;  its  two  or  three 
inches  of  cornice  stole  timidly  out,  as  if  ashamed  of  itself,  over 
the  side,  and  the  whole  wore  an  awkward  and  sheepish  air.  It 
made  me  uncomfortable  every  time  I  looked  at  it,  and  I  resolved 
upon  an  alteration.  So  I  shut  up  half  the  windows,  and 
increased  the  size  where  I  could,  and  threw  out  a  cornice,  which, 
besides  the  merit  of  beauty,  has  the  practical  advantage  (that  is 
the  national  word,  I  believe)  of  acting  as  an  umbrella  to  pro 
tect  the  sides  against  the  mid-day  heat  of  the  sun  in  summer, 
and  the  storms  in  winter.  Besides,  I  added  the  veranda,  which 
runs  nearly  the  whole  length  of  the  front." 

"  I  confess  it  is  an  improvement  upon  the  ancestral  style,"  said 
Armstrong. 

"  I  expected  the  acknowledgment  from  your  natural  taste, 
which  is  excellent,"  said  the  Judge  laughing,  "except  when 
corrupted  by  traditional  prejudices.  I  must  take  care  of  my  horse 
myself,  I  suspect,"  he  added,  as  they  drove  up  to  the  door  :  "  the 
men  are  probably  all  in  the  fields.  He  will  stand,  however,  well 
enough  under  this  shed.'-'  So  saying,  and  after  Armstrong  had 
alighted  at  the  door,  he  drove  the  horse  under  a  shed,  near  the 
barn,  and  fastened  him;  then  joining  Armstrong,  the  two  entered 
the  house. ' 

"La,  Judge  1"  said  Mrs.  Perkins,  the  farmer's  wife  who 
received  them,  smoothing  down  her  check  apron,  "you  take  us 
by  surprise  to-day.  We  didn't  expect  you,  and  the  men-folks  is 
all  in  the  lot.  Didn't  you  find  your  ride  very  warm  ?" 

"  Not  very  ;  and  if  it  had  been,  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you, 
Mrs.  Perkins,  would  more  than  compensate  for  any  annoyance 
from  the  heat." 


416  THE:    LOST    HUNTER. 

"  You  are  so  polite,  Judge,"  replied  Mrs.  Perkins,  simpering. 
"  I  declare  you  are  equal  to  a  Frenchman." 

With  all  his  French  education,  this  was  a  remark  the  Judge 
would  have  been  willing  to  dispense  with  ;  however  on  the 
French  principle  of  considering  that  as  a  compliment,  the  mean 
ing  of  which  is  equivocal,  he  bowed  and  introduced  Mr.  Arm 
strong. 

Mrs.  Perkins  courtesied.  "  She'd  heard/'  she  said,  "  of  Mr. 
Armstrong,  and  that  he  had  the  handsomest  daaghter,  in  the 
town  of  Hillsdale." 

"It  is  your  turn  now,"  whispered  the  Judge.  "  Let  me  sec 
how  you  will  acquit  yourself." 

But  Armstrong  was  not  a  man  for  compliments. 
"Faith  looks  as  well  as  young  ladies  generally  I  believe,"  he 
said. 

Mrs.  Perkins  did  not  like  to  have  her  pretty  speech  received 
with  so  much  indifference,  so  she  answered, 

"  I  was,  perhaps,  too  much  in  a  hurry  when  I  called  Squire 
Armstrong's  daaghter,  the  handsomest  :  I  forgot  Anne, 
and  she's  a  right  to  be,  sence  she's  got  her  father's  good 
looks." 

"  Dear  Mrs  Perkins,  you  overwhelm  me  !"  exclaimed  the 
Judge,  bowing  still  lower  than  before.  "  I  think  higher  than 
ever  of  your  taste." 

"  Ah  !  You're  poking  fun  at  me,  me  now,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins, 
hardly  knowing  how  to  receive  the  acknowledgment.  "But 
wouldn't  you  like  to  take  something  after  your  ride  ?" 

Those  were  not  the  days  of  temperance  societies,  and  it  would 
have  been  quite  secundum  regulas,  had  the  gentlemen  accepted 
the  offer  as  intended  by  their  hostess.  The  Judge  looked  at 
Armstrong,  who  declined,  and  then  turning  to  Mrs.  Perkins 
said, 

"The  strawberry  season  is  not  over,  I  believe" 


THE      LOST      HUXTER.  417 

"  Oh  !  I  can  give  you  strawberries  and  cream,"  interrupted 
the  hospitable  Mrs.  Perkins. 

"  And  would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  give  them  to  us  in  the 
veranda  ?  The  sun  does  not  shine  in,  and  it  will  be  pleasanter  in 
the  open  air." 

"Sartainly.  Eliza  Jane!"  she  cried,  elevating  her  voice  and 
speaking  through  an  open  door  to  one  of  her  little  daughters, 
with  a  blooming  multitude  of  whom  Providence  had  blessed  her, 

"  Eliza  Jane,  fetch  two  cheers  into  the  piazza.  That  piazza, 
Judge,  is  one  of  the  grandest  things  that  ever  was.  The  old 
man  and  me  and  the  children,  take  ever  so  much  comfort  in  it." 

"I  am  glad  you  like  it.  But  we  will  spare  your  daughter 
the  trouble  of  taking  out  the  chairs,  and  carry  them  ourselves." 

"  Not  for  the  world,  Judge,  for  I  think  it's  best  to  make  chil 
dren  useful." 

Accordingly  Eliza  Jane  brought  the  chairs,  and  the  mother 
retiring  with  her,  soon  returned  with  the  little  girl,  bearing  in 
her  hands  a  tray  containing  the  strawberries  and  cream.  The 
Judge  kissed  the  child,  and  gave  her  a  half  dollar  to  buy  a 
ribbon  for  her  bonnet. 

"  I  do  declare  Judge!"  cried  the  mother,  whose  gratified  looks 
contradicted  the  language,  "  you'll  spoil  Eliza  Jane." 

"  A  child  of  yours  cannot  be  spoiled,  Mrs.  Perkins,"  said  the 
Judge,  "  as  long  as  she  is  under  your  eye.  With  your  example 
before  her,  she  is  sure  to  grow  up  a  good  and  useful  woman." 

"  Well,  I  try  to  do  my  duty  by  her,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins,  "  and 
I  don't  mean  it  shall  be  any  fault  of  mine,  if  she  ain't." 

It  was  nearly  sunset  by  the  time  the  gentlemen  had  finished, 
when  the  Judge  proposed  to  visit  a  piece  of  wood  he  was  clear 
ing  at  no  great  distance  from  the  house.  Armstrong  acquiesced, 
and  they  started  off,  Mrs.  Perkins  saying,  she  should  expect 
them  to  stop  to  tea. 

Their  route  lay  through  some  woods  and  in  the  direction  of 

18* 


418  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

the  Wootiippocut,  on  whose  banks  the  clearing  was  being  made. 
As  they  approached,  they  could  hear,  more  and  more  distinctly, 
the  measured  strokes  of  an  axe,  followed  soon  by  the  crash  of  a 
falling  tree.  Then,  as  they  came  still  nearer,  a  rustling  could  be 
distinguished  among  the  leaves  and  the  sound  of  the  cutting  off 
of  limbs.  And  now  they  heard  the  bark  of  a  dog,  and  a  man's 
voice  ordering  him  to  stop  his  noise. 

"Keep  still,  Tige!"  said  the  voice!  "What's  the  use  of 
making  such  a  racket  ?  I  can't  hear  myself  think.  I  say  stop 
your  noise!  shut  up!" 

"  It  is  Tom  Gladding,  whom  Perkins  hired  to  make  the  clear 
ing,  one  of  the  best  wood-choppers  in  the  country.  It  is 
wonderful  with  what  dexterity  he  wields  an  axe." 

As  the  Judge  uttered  these  words,  the  two  gentlemen  emerg 
ed  from  the  wood  into  the  open  space,  denuded  of  its  sylvan 
honors,  by  the  labors  of  Gladding. 

The  clearing  (as  it  is  technically  termed),  was  perhaps  a 
couple  of  acres  in  extent,  in  the  form  of  a  circle,  and  surrounded 
on  all  sides  by  trees,  only  a  narrow  strip  of  them,  however,  being 
left  on  the  margin  of  the  river,  glimpses  of  which  were  caught 
under  the  branches  and  the  thin  undergrowth.  A  brook  which 
came  out  of  the  wood,  ran,  glistening  in  the  beams  of  the  setting 
sun,  and  singing  on  its  way  across  the  opening  to  fall  into  the 
Wootiippocut.  The  felled  trees  had  been  mostly  cut  into 
pieces  of  from  two  to  four  feet  in  length,  and  collected  into  piles 
which  looked  like  so  many  altars  scattered  over  the  ground. 
Here  it  was  intended  they  should  remain  to  dry,  during  the 
summer,-  to  be  ready  for  a  market  in  the  fall. 

"  So  it's  you,  Judge  and  Mr.  Armstrong,"  exclaimed  Glad 
ding  as  the  two  came  up.  "  I  guessed  as  much,  that  somebody 
was  coming,  when  I  heard  Tige  bark.  He  makes  a  different 
sort  of  a  noise  when  he  gits  on  the  scent  of  a  rabbit  or 
squirrel." 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  419 

"  I  dare  say,  Tiger  knows  a  great  deal  more  than  we  fancy," 
said  the  Judge.  "  Why,  Gladding  you  come  on  bravely.  I 
had  no  idea  you  had  made  such  destruction." 

"  When  I  once  put  my  hand  to  the  work,"  said  Tom,  laugh 
ing,  "  down  they  must  come,  in  short  metre,  if  they're  bigger 
than  Goliah.  Me  and  my  axe  are  old  friends,  and  we've  got 
the  hang  of  one  another  pretty  well.  All  I  have  to  do,  is  to 
say,  '  go  it,'  and  every  tree's  a  goner." 

After  this  little  bit  of  vanity,  Tom,  as  if  to  prove  his  ability 
to  make  good  his  boast  by  deeds,  with  a  few  well-directed 
blows,  that  seemed  to  be  made  without  effort,  lopped  off  an 
enormous  limb  from  the  tree  he  had  just  cut  down. 

"  I've  heard  tell,"  said  Tom,  continuing  his  employment  of 
cutting  off  the  limbs,  "  that  the  Britishers  and  the  Mounseers 
don't  use  no  such  axes  as  ourn.  You've  been  across  the  Big 
Pond,  and  can  tell  a  fellow  all  about  it." 

"It  is  true,  they  do  not.  The  European  axe  is  somewhat 
differently  shaped  from  your  effective  weapon." 

"  The  poor,  benighted  critturs  !"  exclaimed  Tom,  in  a  tone  of 
commiseration.  "  I  saw  one  of  them  Parleyvoos  once,  try  to 
handle  an  axe,  and  I  be  darned,  if  he  didn't  come  nigh  cutting 
off  the  great  toe  of  his  right  foot.  If  he  hadn't  been  as  weak 
as  Taunton  water — that,  folks  say,  can't  run  down  hill — as  all 
them  outlandish  furriners  is,  and  had  on,  to  boot,  regular  stout 
cowhiders,  I  do  believe  he'd  never  had  the  chance  to  have  the 
gout  in  one  toe,  anyhow.  Why,  I'd  as  soon  trust  a  monkey 
with  a  coal  of  fire,  in  a  powder-house,  as  one  of  them  chaps 
with  an  axe." 

"  We  have  the  best  axes,  and  the  most  skillful  woodmen  in 
the  world,"  said  the  Judge,  not  unwilling  to  humor  the  harmless 
conceit  of  the  wood-chopper. 

"  It's  plaguy  lucky  we  have,  seeing  as  how  we've  got  so 
many  thousands  and  thousands  of  acres  to  clear  up,"  said  Tom, 


420  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

with  a  sort  of  confused  notion,  that  the  skill  of  his  countrymen 
was  a  natural  faculty  not  possessed  by  "  furriners."  "  But, 
Judge,"  he  added,  "  I'm  astonished  at  your  cutting  down  the 
trees  at  this  season  of  the  year,  and  it  kind  o'  goes  agin  my 
conscience  to  sling  into  'em." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean.  You  think  they  ought  not  to  be 
cut  when  the  sap  is  rising.  I  suppose,  the  fire-wood  is  not  so 
good  r 

"  Not  half.  Turn  the  thing  as  you  choose,  and  you'll  see 
you're  wrong.  In  the  first  place,  the  wood  ain't  nigh  as  good  ; 
then,  you  lose  the  growth  the  whole  summer,  and,  lastly,  you 
take  away  a  fellow  from  business  that's  more  profitable.'7 

"  How  ?''  said  the  Judge.  "  Do  I  not  give  you  full  wages  ? 
Can  you  get  higher  wages  elsewhere  ?" 

"  No  fault  to  find  with  the  pay,"  answered  Torn  ;  "  that's 
good  enough  But,  that  ain't  the  idee.  What  I'm  at  is,  that 
when  I  work,  I  like  to  see  something  useful  come  to  pass. 
Now,  every  time  I  strike  a  blow,  it  seems  to  go  right  to  my 
heart ;  for,  I  says  to  myself,  this  ain't  no  season  for  cutting 
wood.  The  Judge  don't  understand  his  own  interest,  and. he's 
only  paying  me  for  injuring  him." 

Judge  Bernard  was  too  well-acquainted  with  the  honest 
independence  of  Gladding  to  be  offended  at  his  uncomplimentary 
frankness.  Nor,  indeed,  looking  at  it  from  Tom's  point  of  view, 
could  he  avoid  feeling  a  certain  respect  for  that  right-minded 
ness,  which  regarded  not „  merely  the  personal  remuneration  to 
be  received,  but,  also,  the  general  benefit  to  be  produced.  He 
laughed,  therefore,  as  he  replied — 

il  You  do  not  seem  to  set  much  value  on  my  judgment,  Glad 
ding.  Perhaps,  I  have  objects  you  do  not  see." 

"  It  ain't  to  be  expected,"  said  Tom,  "  and  it  ain't  rational  to 
suppose,  that  a  man,  who,  when  he  was  young,  spent  his  time 
travelling  over  all  creation,  and  then  when  he  come  home,  took 


TTI   K      i,  i)  S  T      II  TN  T  E  R  .  421 

to  the  law,  should  know  much  about  these  matters  ;  though,  I 
guess  you  know  as  much  as  most  folks,  who  ain't  been  brought 
up  to  'em.  But,  as  you  say,  it's  likely  you've  got  reasons  of 
your  own,  as  plenty  as  feathers  in  a  bed,  and  I've  been  talking 
like  most  folks  whose  tongues  is  too  long,  like  a  darned  fool." 

"  You  are  too  hard  on  yourself,  now.  But,  for  your  consola 
tion,  we  will  stop  to-day  with  this  piece  of  work,  and  you  shall 
not  be  pained  to  cut  down  any  more  trees  out  of  season.  The 
clearing  is  as  large  as  I  wish  it,  and  we  will  see  to  the  burning 
of  the  brush,  when  it  is  drier.  But,  where  is  Mr.  Armstrong  ?" 

Armstrong,  at  the  commencement  of  the  conversation,  had 
strayed  away  by  himself,  and  sat  down  by  one  of  the  altar-like 
piles  of  wood,  near  the  margin  of  the  brook.  Here  he  leaned 
his  head  on  his  hand,  and  seemed  lost  in  meditation.  He  was 
in  this  posture  when  the  exclamation  was  made  by  the  Judge, 
who,  on  looking  round,  discovered  the  missing  man,  and  imme 
diately  advanced  toward  him.  So  deep  was  his  abstraction, 
that  it  was  not  until  his  friend's  hand  rested  on  his  shoulder 
that  he  was  aware  of  the  other's  presence.  He  arose,  and  the 
two  retraced  their  steps  together.  The  sun,  by  this  time,  had 
sunk  behind  the  horizon,  and,  as  they  passed,  Gladding  threw 
his  axe  on  his  shoulder  and  joined  their  company. 

"  I'm  glad,"  said  the  wood-chopper,  as  they  stepped  out  of 
the  clearing,  and  turned  to  look  back  upon  what  he  had  accom 
plished,  "  that  job's  done,  and  I  can  turn  my  hand  to  some 
thing  else  more  like  summer  work." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  proceed  no  further  with  your  chopping?" 
inquired  Armstrong. 

"  Not  at  present.  All  has  been  done  that  I  desired,  and  I 
ought  to  respect  Gladding's  conscientious  scruples." 

Armstrong  looked  inquiringly  from  one  to  the  other,  but 
asked  no  question. 

The  hospitable  invitation  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Perkins  was  too 


422  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

pressing  to  be  resisted,  and  it  was  not  until  the  full  moon  had 
risen,  that  the  gentlemen  departed.  The  soft  beauty  of  the 
delicious  evening,  or  some  other  cause,  exercised  an  influence 
over  Armstrong,  that  disposed  him  to  silence  and  meditation, 
which  his  companion  perceiving,  they  returned  home  without 
exchanging  scarcely  a  dozen  words. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  423 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Man  is  a  harp,  whose  cords  elude  the  sight, 

Each  yielding  harmony  disposed  aright ; 

The  screws  reversed  (a  task  which  if  he  please, 

God  in  a  moment  executes  with  ease), 

Ten  thousand  thousand  strings  at  once  go  loose, 

Lost,  till  he  tune  them,  all  their  power  and  use. 

COWPER. 

THE  aberration  of  mind  of  the  unhappy  Mr.  Armstrong  was 
at  last  with  inevitable  and  steady  step  approaching  its  dreaded 
culminating  point.  To  the  outward  eye  he  exhibited  but 
little  change.  He  was  indeed,  at  times  more  restless,  and  his 
eyes  would  wander  round  as  if  in  quest  of  some  object  that  was 
trying  to  elude  his  sight  ;  at  one  moment  listless,  silent,  and 
dejected,  and  again  animated,  almost  gay,  like  one  who,  ashamed 
of  an  exhibition  of  moody  temper,  tries  to  atone  by  extraor 
dinary  efforts  of  amiability  for  the  error.  His  intimate  friends 
had  some  knowledge  of  these  changes,  and  to  Faith,  above  all, 
living  with  him  in  the  same  house,  and  in  the  tender  relation  of  a 
daughter  to  a  parent,  each  of  whom  idolized  the  other,  they  were 
painfully  apparent,  and  great  was  the  anxiety  they  occasioned. 
How  bitter  were  the  tears  which  in  solitude  she  shed,  and  fre 
quent  and  fervent  her  supplications  to  the  universal  Father  to 
pity  and  protect  her  father  !  How  willingly,  even  at  the  sacrifice 
even  of  her  own  life,  would  she  have  restored  peace  and  happi 
ness  to  him  ! 

But  to  the  neighbors,  to  those  who  saw  Armstrong  only  in 
public,  no  great  change  was  manifest.  He  was  thinner  and 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


paler  than  usual,  to  be  sure,  but  every  one  was  liable  to  attacks 
of  indisposition,  and  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  be 
exempt ;  he  did  not  speak  a  great  deal,  but  he  was  always 
rather  taciturn,  and  when  he  did  converse,  it  was  with  his  usual 
sweetness  and  affability.  They  guessed  he'd  be  better  after  a 
while. 

Such   was  the    common  judgment    in    the   little   community 
among  those  who  had  any  knowledge  of  Armstrong's  condition 
They  saw  him  daily  in  the  streets.     They  conversed  with  him 
and  could  see  nothing  out  of  the  way.     But  some  few  who  recoi 
led  the  history  of  the  family,  and  the  circumstances  attend^ 
atter  years  of  Armstrong's  father,  shook  their  heads   and 
d  not  hesitate  to  intimate  that  there  had  always  been  some- 
nng  strange  about  the  Armstrongs.     Curious  stories,  too,  were 
d  about  the  grandfather,  and  there  was  a  dim  tradition   no- 
ody  knew  whence  it  came,  or  on  what  authority  it  rested  'that 
the  original  ancestor  of  the  family  in  this  country,  was  distin 
guished  in  those  days  of  ferocious    bigotry,  when  the  Indians 
3  regarded  by  many  as  Canaanites,  whom  it  was  a  religious 
duty  to  extirpate,  as  much  for  an  unrelenting  severity  against 
the  natives,  bordering  even  on  aberration  of  mind,  as  for  reckless 
courage. 

It  is  sad  to  look  upon  the  ruins  of  a  palace  in  whose  halls  the 
gay  song  and  careless  laugh  long  ago  echoed  ;  to  contemplate 
the  desolation  of  the  choked  fountains  in  gardens  which  were 
princely;  and  with  difficulty  to  make  one's  way  through  encroach- 
mg  weeds  and  tangled  briers,  over  what  once  were  paths  where 
beauty  lingered  and  listened  to  the  vow  of  love  ;  or  to  wander 
through  the  streets  of  a  disentombed  city,  or  seated  on  a  fallen 
column,  or  the  stone  steps  of  the  disinterred  amphitheatre  to 
think  of  the  human  hearts  that  here,  a  thousand  years  agona 
3eat  emulously  with  the  hopes  and  fears,  the  loves  and  hates' 
e  joys  and  sorrows,  the  aspiration  and  despair  that  animate 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  425 

or  depress  our  own,  and  to  reflect  that  they  have  all  vanished— 
ah,  whither  ?  But  however  saddening  the  reflections  occasioned 
by  such  contemplations,  however  much  vaster  the  interests  in 
volved  in  them,  they  do  not  affect  us  with  half  that  wretched 
sorrow  with  which  we  gaze  upon  the  wreck  of  a  human  mind. 
In  the  former  case,  that  which  has  passed  away  has  performed 
its  part ;  on  every  thing  terrestial  "  transitory,"  is  written,  and 
it  is  a  doom  we  expect,  and  are  prepared  for  ;  but  in  the  latter 
it  is  a  shrouding  of  the  heavens  ;  it  is  a  conflict  betwixt  light 
and  darkness,  where  darkness  conquers  ;  it  is  an  obscuration  and 
eclipse  of  the  godlike.  We  therefore  feel  no  desire  to  dwell 
upon  this  part  of  our  history,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  glide  over 
it  as  rapidly  as  is  consistent  with  the  development  of  the  tale. 

Next  after  Faith,  the  faithful  Felix  noticed,  with  disquietude, 
the  alteration  in  his  master,  and  many  were  the  sad  colloquies 
he  held  with  Rosa  on  the  subject.  Holden  in  some  way  or 
another  was  connected  in  his  mind  with  the  cause  of  Mr.  Arm 
strong's  melancholy,  for  although  for  several  years  the  latter 
had  not  been  remarkably  cheerful,  yet  it  was  only  since  Holden's 
acquaintance  had  become  intimacy,  that  that  melancholy  deepen 
ed  into  gloom.  The  simple  fellow  naturally  looked  round  for 
some  cause  for  the  effect,  and  none  presented  itself  so  plausible 
as  the  one  he  adopted. 

"  I  wish,"  he  had  repeatedly  said  to  Rosa,  "  that  the  old  man 
would  stay  away.  I'd  see  the  divil  with  as  much  satisfashum  as 
him.  Miss  Faith  too,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  out  of  her  wits." 

One  morning  when  Felix  went  up  stairs,  in  answer  to  his 
masters  bell,  he  could  not  avoid  remarking  on  his  altered  appear 
ance. 

"  I  hope  you  will  'scuse  me,  sir,''  he  said,  "  but  me  and  the 
servants  very  much  alarm  about  you,  sir." 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you,  Felix,  and  to  all  of  you,  but  really  there 
is  no  occasion  for  any  alarm,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong. 


426  THE     LOST      HUNTER. 

"  The  case  is  the  alarmingest  when  the  patient  doesn't  know- 
how  sick  he  is.  There  was  my  old  friend,  Pompey  Topset.  He 
was  setting  up  on  the  bed,  when  I  come  in  to  see  him,  smoking 
a  pipe.  And  says  he,  says  Pompey  to  me,  says  he,  Felix,  how  do 
you  do  ?  this  child  never  feel  better.  Then  he  give  one  puff  and 
his  head  fall  on  the  breast,  and  the  pipe  jump  out  of  his 
mouth  and  burnt  the  clothes,  and  where  was  Pompey  !  He 
never,"  added  Felix,  shaking  his  head,  "  was  more  mistaken  in 
all  his  life." 

Mr.  Armstrong  was  obliged  to  smile.  "  So  you  think  me  in 
as  dangerous  a  condition  as  Pompey  was,  when  he  took  his  last 
smoke." 

"Bless  you,  Mr.  Armstrong  for  the  sweet  smile,"  exclaimed, 
the  negro.  "  If  you  know  how  good  it  make  me  feel  here, 
(laying  his  hand  on  his  heart)  you  would  smile  pretty  often.  I 
can  remember  when  the  wren  wasn't  merrier  than  you,  and  you 
laughed  almost  as  much  as  this  fool  Felix."  At  the  recollection 
of  those  happy  days,  poor  Felix  pressed  his  hands  upon  his  eyes, 
and  tried  to  hide  the  tears,  that  in  spite  of  his  efforts  stole 
through  the  fingers.  "But,"  continued  he,  "I  hope  in  the 
name  of  marcy,  that  you  ain't  so  bad  off  as  Pompey.  That 
can't  be.  I  only  spoke  of  him  for  the  sake  of — of — the  illumi 
nation." 

"  And  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?"  inquired  Armstrong, 
desirous  to  take  all  possible  notice  of  the  affectionate  fellow. 

"  I  pufess  a  high  'pinion  of  the  doctor,"  answered  Felix. 
"  There  is  no  man  who  gives  medicine  that  tastes  worse,  and 
therefore  must  be  the  powerfullest.  I  would  proscribe  the 
doctor,  sir." 

"  You  would  prescribe  the  doctor  ?  Ah,  Felix,  T  am  afraid 
my  case  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  medicines." 

"There  is  one  other  thing  I  should  like  to  mention  if  I  wasn't 
'fraid  it  might  offend  Mr.  Armstrong,"  said  Felix,  hesitatingly. 


THE     LOST     HUNTER. 


421 


"  And  what  is  that,  Felix  ?  I  will  promise  not  to  be 
offended." 

Thus  encouraged,  Felix  ventured  to  say. 

"  I  have  remark  that  Mr.  Holden  come  often  to  see  you,  and 
you  go  to  see  him.  His  visits  always  seem  to  leave  you  kind  o' 
solemncolly  like,  and  all  the  world  is  surprise  that  you  are  so 
condescensious  to  the  basket-man." 

"  Enough  of  this,"  said  Armstrong,  abruptly  and  sternly. 
"  You  permit  too  much  freedom  to  your  tongue  respecting  your 
superiors.  Leave  the  room." 

Poor  Felix,  aghast  at  the  sudden  change  in  the  manner  of  his 
master,  precipitately  retired,  casting  back  a  grieved  look,  and 
ejaculating  under  bis  breath,  as  he  closed  the  door,  "Good 

Lord  !" 

"What  is  the  matter  with  me  ?"  said  Armstrong,  presently  to 
himself,  upon  being  left  alone.  "  I  invite  this  poor  fellow,  whose 
only  fault  is  that  he  loves  me  too  much,  to  speak  freely,  and  then 
treat  him  harshly  for  his  unintentional  impertinence,  assuming 
an  importance  that  belongs  to  no  one,  and  as  if  we  were  not 
worms  creeping  together  towards  the  edge  of  that  precipice  from 
which  we  must  fall  into  eternity.  Whence  springs  my  conduct 
but  from  pride,  self-will,  selfishness  ?  I  would  arrogate  a  supe 
riority  over  this  poor  negro.  Poor  negro  !  There  spoke  the 
pride  of  your  heart,  James  Armstrong  !  But  well  is  he  called 
Felix  in  comparison  with  you.  Happy  in  being  born  of  a 
despised  and  persecuted  race  ;  happy  in  being  condemned  to 
the  life  of  a  servant,  to  an  ignorance  that  diminishes  responsi 
bility  ;  happy  in  receiving  no  good  thing  here.  Strut  about, 
James  Armstrong,  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  but  know  that  for 
all  these  things,  God  will  assuredly  call  thee  to  judgment." 

That  whole  day  Armstrong  seemed  debating  some  question 
with  himself.  He  paid  less  than  even  his  usual  attention  to 
what  was  passing  around,  and  more  than  once  was  spoken  to 


428  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

without  heeding  the  address.  In  the  afternoon,  he  started  off 
by  frimself,  saying  he  might  not  return  until  evening.  Felix, 
whose  anxiety  the  rebuff  in  the  morning  had  strengthened  and 
confirmed,  watched  his  master  as  he  left  the  house,  and  would 
have  followed  to  guard  him  against  a  danger,  the  approach  of 
which  he  instinctively  felt,  but  which  he  could  not  see,  unless 
Faith,  to  whom  he  thought  proper  to  communicate  his  intention, 
had  forbidden  him.  She  found  it  difficult  to  prevent  him,  so 
greatly  were  the  fears  of  the  black  excited,  on  whose  mind  the 
motives  of  delicacy  that  induced  Faith  to  desire  to  guard  the 
movements  of  her  father  from  observation,  cannot  be  supposed 
to  have  exerted  so  much  force.  Much  doubting  and  question 
ing  the  wisdom  of  the  young  lady,  yet  not  venturing  to  disobey 
her,  Felix  blamed  himself  for  making  her  acquainted  with  his 
design. 

"  This  child  head,"  he  said,  apostrophizing  himself,  "ain't  no 
better  than  a  squash.  What  made  me  tell  Miss  Faith  what  I 
were  going  to  do  ?" 

After  Armstrong  left  the  house,  he  continued  in  the  street 
only  a  little  way,  soon  striking  across  the  fields  and  thus  greatly 
abridging  the  distance  he  must  have  passed  over  had  he  pursued 
the  high  road.  The  truth  is,  he  was  directing  his  steps  towards 
the  very  spot  he  had  visited  with  Judge  Bernard.  He  reached 
it,  notwithstanding  he  was  afoot,  in  much  less  time  than  the 
drive  had  taken,  so  rapidly  did  he  walk  when  out  of  sight,  and 
so  much  was  the  length  of  the  way  shortened.  Upon  arriving 
at  the  place,  he  sat  down  upon  the  same  log  which  had  been  his 
former  seat,  and  folding  his  arms  sunk  into  a  reverie.  After  the 
space  of  an  hour,  perhaps,  thus  passed,  he  rose  and  commenced 
piling  up  near  the  brook  some  pieces  of  wood  which  he  took 
from  the  heaps  about  him,  making  another,  differing  from  them 
principally  in  being  smaller.  As  he  crossed  the  sticks  laid 
regularly  at  right  angles  upon  each  other,  he  filled  up  the  inter- 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  429 

vals  with  the  loose  leaves  and  dry  brush  lying  around.  In  this 
way  he  proceeded  until  he  had  raised  a  cube,  perhaps  six  feet 
long,  four  wide,  and  four  high. 

During  the  whole  time  the  work  was  progressing  he  seemed  to 
be  contending  with  violent  emotions  and  driven  along  by  some 
power  he  vainly  tried  to  resist.  Terror,  awe,  and  repugnance 
were  all  portrayed  upon  his  countenance.  But  fetill  the  work 
went  on.  When  it  was  finished  he  stood  off  a  few  steps,  and 
then,  as  in  a  sudden  frenzy,  rushed  at,  and  seizing  upon  the 
several  sticks  of  wood,  hurled  them  in  every  direction  around 
until  the  whole  pile  was  demolished.  Neglecting  his  hat  that 
lay  upon  the  ground,  he  then  ran  with  a  wild  cry,  and  at  the  top 
of  his  speed,  bounding,  like  a  wild  animal,  over  the  brush 
and  trunks  of  trees,  as  if  in  haste  to  remove  himself  from  a 
dreadful  object,  until  he  reached  the  woods,  when  falling  upon 
his  face,  he  lay  quite  still.  After  a  time  he  appeared  seized  with 
a  hysterical  passion  ;  he  pressed  his  hand  on  his  side  as  if  in 
pain,  and  heavy  sobs  burst  at  irregular  intervals  from  his  bosom. 
These  finally  passed  away,  and  he  sat  up  comparatively  com 
posed.  A  struggle  was  still  going  on,  for  several  times  he  got 
up  and  walked  a  short  distance  and  returned  and  threw  himself 
down  on  the  ground  as  before.  At  length,  indistinctly  mut 
tering,  unheeding  the  blazing  sun  that  scorched  his  unprotected 
head,  and  lingering  as  though  unwilling  to  advance,  he  returned 
to  the  scene  of  his  former  labors.  And  now,  as  if  unwilling  to 
trust  himself  with  any  delay,  lest  his  resolution  might  falter,  he 
proceeded,  with  a  sort  of  feverish  impatience,  to  reconstruct  the 
pile.  Shortly,  the  pieces  were  laid  symmetrically  upon  each  other 
as  before,  and  the  dead  leaves  and  brush  disposed  in  the  intervals. 
After  all  was  done,  Armstrong  leaned  over  and  bowed  his  head 
in  an  attitude  of  supplication.  When  he  raised  it  the  eyes  were 
tearless,  and  his '  pale  face  wore  an  aspect  of  settled  despair. 
Resuming  the  hat,  that  until  now  had  lain  neglected  in  the 


430  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

leaves,  he  went  to  the  brook  and  washed  his  hands  in  the 
running  water. 

"  Could  man  wash  out  the  sins  of  his  soul,"  he  said,  "as  I 
wash  these  stains  from  my  hands  !  But  water,  though  it  may 
cleanse  outer  pollution,  cannot  reach  the  inner  sin.  Blood, 
blood  only,  can  do  that.  Why  was  it  that  this  dreadful  law 
was  imposed  upon  our  race  ?  But  I  will  not  dwell  on  this.  I 
have  interrogated  the  universe  and  God,  and  entreated  them  to 
disclose  the  awful  secret,  but  in  vain.  My  heart  and  brain  are 
burnt  to  ashes  in  the  attempt  to  decipher  the  mystery.  I  will 
strive  no  more.  It  is  a  provocation  to  faith.  I  dare  not  trust 
to  reason.  There  is  something  above  reason.  I  submit.  Dread 
ful,  unfathomable  mystery,  I  submit,  and  accept  thee  with  all 
the  consequences  at  which  the  quivering  flesh  recoils." 

Upon  the  return  of  Armstrong,  all  traces  of  violent  emotion 
had  disappeared,  and  given  place  to  exhaustion  and  lassitude. 
Faith  had,  by  this  time,  become  so  accustomed  to  the  variable 
humors  of  her  father,  that,  however  much  they  pained  her,  she 
was  no  longer  alarmed  by  them  as  formerly.  It  was  her  habit, 
whenever  he  was  attacked  by  his  malady,  to  endeavor  to  divert 
his  attention  from  melancholy  thoughts  to  others  of  a  more 
cheerful  character.  And  now,  on  this  day,  so  fraught  with  hor 
rors  of  which  she  was  ignorant,  although  the  silence  of  the 
unhappy  man  interrupted  by  fits  of  starting,  and  inquiries  of  the 
time  o'clock,  revealed  to  her  that  he  was  suffering  to  an  unusual 
degree,  she  attempted  the  same  treatment  which,  in  more  than 
one  instance,  had  seemed  to  be  attended  with  a  beneficial  effect. 
Armstrong  was  peculiarly  sensitive  to  music,  and  it  was  to  his 
love  of  it  that  she  now  trusted  to  chase  away  his  gloom.  When, 
therefore,  ia  the  evening,  she  had  vainly  endeavored  to  engage 
him  in  conversation,  receiving  only  monosyllables  in  return,  she 
advanced  to  the  piano,  and  inquired  if  he  would  not  like  to  hear 
her  sing  ?  . 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  431 

"  Sing  !  my  child  ?"  said  Armstrong,  as  if  at  first  not  under 
standing  the  question  ;  "Oh,  yes— let  me  hear  you  sing." 

Faith  opened  the  piano,  and  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  music 
book,  and  selecting  a  sacred  melody  as  best  befitting  the  mood 
of  her  father,  sung,  with  much  sweetness  and  expression,  the 
following  lines  : 

How  shall  I  think  of  Thee,  eternal  Fountain 

Of  earthly  joys  and  boundless  hopes  divine, 
Of  Thee,  whose  mercies  are  beyond  recounting, 

To  whom  unnumbered  worlds  in  praises  shine  ? 

I  see  thy  beauty  in  the  dewy  morning, 

And  in  the  purple  sunset's  changing  dyes ; 
Thee  I  behold  the  rainbow's  arch  adorning ; 

Thee  in  the  starry  glories  of  the  skies. 

The  modest  flower,  low  in  the  green  grass  blushing, 

The  wondrous  wisdom  of  the  honey  bee, 
The  birds'  clear  joy  in  streams  of  music  gushing, 

In  sweet  and  varied  language  tell  of  Thee. 

All  things  are  with  Thy  loving  presence  glowing, 

The  worm  as  well  as  the  bright,  blazing  star  ; 
Out  of  Thine  infinite  perfection  flowing, 

For  Thine  own  bliss  and  their  deligiitTHEY  ARE. 

But  chiefly  in  the  pure  and  trusting  spirit, 
Is  Thy  choice  dwelling-place,  Thy  brightest  throne. 

The  soul  that  loves  shall  all  of  good  inherit, 
For  Thou,  0  God  of  love  art  all  its  own. 

Upon  Thine  altar  I  would  lay  all  feeling, 

Subdued  and  hallowed  to  Thy  perfect  will, 
Accept  these  tears,  a  thankful  heart  revealing, 

A  heart  that  hopes,  that  trembles,  and  is  still. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  hymn,  Armstrong  paid  but 
little  attention,  but  as  the  sweet  stream  of  melody  flowed  on 
from  lips  on  which  he  had  ever  hung  with  delight,  and  in  the 
tones  of  that  soft,  beloved  voice,  it  gradually  insinuated  itself 
through  his  whole  being,  as  it  were  into  the  innermost  chambers 
of  his  soul.  He  raised  the  dejected  eyes,  and  they  dwelt  on 


432  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


Faith's  face  with  a  sort  of  loving  eagerness,  as  if  he  were  seek 
ing  to  appropriate  some  of  the  heavenly  emotion  that  to  his 
imagination,  more  and  more  excited,  began  to  assume  the 
appearance  of  a  celestial  halo  around  her  head.  But  it  is  not 
necessary  to  assume  the  existence  of  insanity  to  account  for  such 
an  impression.  If  there  be  anything  which  awakens  reminis 
cences  of  a  divine  origin,  it  is  from  the  lips  of  innocence  and 
beauty,  to  listen  to  the  pure  heart  pouring  itself  out  in  tones 
like  voices  dropping  from  the  sky.  The  sweetness,  the  full  per 
fection  of  the  notes  are  not  sufficient  to  account  for  the  effect. 
No  instrument  made  by  human  hands  is  adequate  to  it.  There 
is  something  more,  something  lying  behind,  sustaining  and  float 
ing  through  the  sounds.  Is  it  the  sympathy  of  the  heavenly  for 
the  earthly  ;  the  tender  lamentation  not  unmixed  with  hope  ; 
the  sigh  of  the  attendant  angel  ? 

Upon  the  conclusion  of  the  piece,  Faith  rose  and  took  a  seat 
by  her  father. 

11  Shall  I  sing  more,  father  ?"  she  inquired. 

"No,  my  darling,"  answered  Armstrong,  taking  her  hand 
into  his.  "  Dearly  as  I  love  to  hear  you,  and  although  it  may  be 
the  last  time,  I  would  rather  have  you  nearer  me,  and  hear  you 
speak  in  your  own  language  ;  it  is  sweeter  than  the  words  of 
any  poet.  Faith,  do  you  believe  I  love  you  ?" 

"Father  I  father  !"  cried  she,  embracing  him,  "  how  can  you 
ask  so  cruel  a  question  ?  I  know  that  you  love  me  as  much  as 
father  ever  loved  a  daughter." 

"  Promise  me  that  nothing  shall  ever  deprive  you  of  a  full 
confidence  in  my  affection." 

"  I  should  be  most  wretched,  could  I  think  it  possible." 

"•  But  suppose  I  should  kill  you  this  instant  ?" 

"  Dear  father,  this  is  horrid  !  You  are  incapable  of  enter 
taining  a  thought  of  evil  towards  me." 

"You  are  right,  Faith,  but  only  suppose  it." 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  433 

"  I  cannot  have  such  a  thought  of  my  own  father  !  It  is 
impossible.  I  would  sooner  die  than  admit  it  into  my 
mind." 

"  I  am  satisfied.  Under  no  circumstances  can  you  conceive  a 
thought  of  evil  of  me.  But  this  is  a  strange  world,  and  the 
strangest  things  happen  in  it.  I  speak  in  this  way  because  I 
do  not  know  what  may  come  to  pass  next.  I  have  always 
loved  my  fellow-men,  and  desired  their  good  opinion,  and  the 
idea  of  forfeiting  it,  either  through  my  own  fault  or  theirs,  is 
painful  to  me.  But  men  judge  so  absurdly  !  They  look  only 
at  the  outside.  They  are  so  easily  deceived  by  appearances  ! . 
Do  you  know,  that  of  late  I  have  thought  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  confusion  in  the  ordinary  way  of  men's  thinking  ?  But 
I  see  clearly  the  cause  of  the  errors  into  which  they  are  per 
petually  falling.  All  the  discord  arises  from  having  wills  of 
their  own.  Do  you  not  think  so  ?" 

"Religion  teaches,  father,  that  our  wills  are  sources  of 
unhappiness  only  when  opposed*to  the  Divine  will." 

"  I  knew  you  would  agree  with  me.  And  then  think  of  the 
folly  of  it.  The  resistance  must  be  ineffectual.  That  is  a  sweet 
song  you  sung,  but  it  seems  to  me  the  theology  of  it  is  not 
altogether  correct.  It  celebrates  only  the  love  of  God,  and  is, 
therefore,  partial  and  one-sided.  He  is  also  a  consuming  fire." 

"  A  consuming  fire  to  destroy  what  is  e?il." 

"  I  hope  it  is  so.  But  do  you  know  that  I  have  been  a  good 
deal  troubled  lest  there  might  be  truth  in  the  doctrine,  that 
Necessity,  an  iron  Necessity,  you  understand,  might  control 
God  himself?" 

"  Why  will  you  distress  yourself  with  these  strange  specula 
tions,  father?  There  are  some  things,  it  was  intended,  we 
should  not  know." 

"Why,"  continued  Armstrong,  "it  is  an  opinion  that  has 
been  entertained  for  thousands  of  years,  and  by  the  wisest  men. 

19 


434  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

The  old  philosophers  believed  in  it,  and  I  do  not  know  how 
otherwise  to  explain  the  destiny  of  the  elect  and  reprobate. 
For  you  see,  Faith,  that  if  God  could  make  all  men  happy,  he 
would.  But  he  does  not." 

"  I  think  we  ought  not  to  engage  our  minds  in  such  thoughts," 
said  Faith.  "  They  cannot  make  us  wiser  or  better,  or  comfort 
us  in  affliction,  or  strengthen  us  for  duty." 

"  They  are  very  interesting.  I  have  spent  days  thinking 
them  over.  But  if  the  subject  is  unpleasant  we  will  choose 
another.  I  think  you  look  wonderfully  like  your  mother 
to-night.  I  almost  seem  to  see  her  again.  It  was  very  curious 
how  Mr.  Holden  discovered  your  likeness  to  her." 

"I  was  quite  startled,"  said  his  daughter,  glad  to  find  her 
father's  mind  directed  to  something  else.  "I  wonder  if  he 
could  have  seen  my  mother." 

He  explained  the  way  in  which  he  found  it  out.  "  Was  it 
not  ingenious?  No  one  else  would  have  thought  of  it.  He 
has  a  very  subtle  intellect." 

"  I  was  not  quite  satisfied,"  said  Faith.  "  His  explanation 
seemed  far  fetched,  and  intended  for  concealment.  I  think  he 
must  have  seen  my  mother." 

"  If  that  is  your  opinion,  I  will  inquire  into  it.  But  I  do  not 
wish  to  speak  of  Holden.  You  have  been  to  me,  Faith,  a 
source  of  great  happiness,  and  when  you  are  gone,  I  know  I 
shall  not  live  long." 

"  We  shall  live  many  happy  years  yet,  dear  father,  and  when 
our  time  comes  to  depart,  we  will  thank  God  for  the  happiness 
we  have  enjoyed,  and  look  forward  to  greater." 

"  Your  time  is  at  the  door,  my  daughter,"  said  Armstrong, 
solemnly. 

"  I  know  that  at  any  moment  I  may  be  called,  but  that  does 
not  affect  my  happiness,  or  diminish  my  confidence,  that  all  is 
well  according  to  the  counsel  of  His  will." 


T  H  K      I-  0  S  T      HUNTER.  435 

"  I  see  thee  in  the  shining  raiment  of  the  blessed  !  I  behold 
thee  in  the  celestial  city  !"  exclaimed  Armstrong. 

It  was  later  than  usual  when  the  father  and  daughter  sepa 
rated  that  night.  Jt  seemed  as  if  he  were  unwilling  to  allow 
her  to  depart,  detaining  her  by  caresses  when  she  made  sugges 
tions  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  assenting  only  when  the 
clock  warned  that  midnight  was  passed.  Then  it  was  he  said : 

"I  do  wrong  to  keep  you  up  so  long,  Faith.  You  should  be 
bright  and  well  for  an  excursion  I  intend  to  take  with  you 
to-morrow.  You  will  go  with  me,  will  you  not  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  delighted.  The  clear  sky,"  she  added,  walking  to 
the  window,  "  promises  a  fine  day." 

"Upon  how  many  new-made  graves  will  to-morrow's  sun 
shine  ?  I  wish  mine  was  one  of  them." 

"  O,  do  not  say  so.     You  will  break  my  heart." 

"  Not  willingly.  0  !  I  do  not  pain  you  willingly.  You 
were  not  born  to  suffer  much  pain.  Living  or  dying,  you  will 
be  a  pure  offering  to  your  Maker,  my  daughter." 

"  Father,  how  strangely  you  talk  !     You  are  ill." 

"  As  well  as  I  shall  be  in  this  life.  But  do  not  be  troubled. 
To-morrow  will  make  a  change." 

He  was  near  the  door  when  he  uttered  the  last  words  ;  and 
now,  as  if  not  daring  to  trust  himself  in  a  longer  conversation, 
he  hastily  opened  it,  and  proceeded  to  his  chamber.  Faith  fol 
lowed  his  example,  pondering  sadly  over  the  conversation.  It 
did  not  escape  her,  that  it  was  more  incoherent  than  usual,  but 
she  had  seen  persons  before  under  great  religious  distress  of 
mind,  whose  peace  was  afterwards  restored,  and  she  doubted 
not  that,  in  like  manner,  her  father's  doubts  would  be  solved, 
and  his  spirit  calmed.  With  her  heart  full  of  him,  and  her 
last  thought  <i  petition  on  his  behalf,  she  fell  asleep. 


436  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 
/ 

'Tis  necessity 

To  which  the  gods  must  yield ;  and  I  obey, 
Till  I  redeem  it  by  some  glorious  way. 

BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER. 

THE  next  morning  was  beautiful,  like  most  June  mornings. 
Armstrong,  who  had  not  closed  his  eyes  during  the  whole  night, 
rose  with  the  dawn  to  wander  through  his  garden,  which  was  a 
favorite  resort.  His  walk,  at  first  rapid  and  irregular,  as  if  he 
were  trying  to  work  off  a  nervous  excitement,  gradually  slack 
ened,  until  it  became  a  firm,  composed  step.  With  folded  arms 
and  compressed,  resolved  lips,  he  paced  up  and  down  the  paths. 
He  was  living  in  an  interior  world.  He  heard  not  the  singing 
of  the  birds,  which,  in  great  numbers,  frequented  the  spacious 
gardens  and  orchards  lying  around  ;  he  saw  not  the  beautiful 
flowers,  burdening  the  air  with  sweetness  ;  nor  the  young  fruit, 
whose  progress,  through  the  various  stages  of  its  growth,  he 
had  once  watched  with  so  much  pleasure.  His  mind  went  back 
to  the  time  when  he  was  a  school-boy  with  his  brother  George  ; 
when  they  slept  in  the  same  bed,  and  associated  in  the  same 
sports  ;  it  then  advanced  to  their  college  days,  and  the  face  of 
the  beautiful  girl,  who  became  his  wife,  flitted  by  him.  He 
thought  of  that  fair  face  now  for  many  a  long  day,  mouldering 
in  the  grave,  into  which  he  had  seen  the  coffin  lowered  ;  then 
his  thoughts  reverted  to  his  brother  George,  so  brave,  so  gene 
rous,  so  strong  once,  but  who  presented  himself  to  his  vision 
now,  a  livid  corpse,  dripping  with  water.  Next  came  his 


THE      LOST      H  U  N  T  E  P.  .  431 

mother,  of  whom  bis  recollection  was  faint  ;  and  then  his 
father,  with  insanity  in  his  eyes.  He  felt,  as  it  were,  their  pre 
sence  around  him,  but  it  was  a  companionship  which  afforded  no 
pleasure.  There  seemed  to  be  something  about  himself  that 
invincibly  held  them  off,  notwithstanding  their  attempts  to 
approach — a  sullen  sphere,  which  projected  a  dark  shadow,  only 
to  the  edge  of  which  the  spirits  could  come,  and  which  they 
made  repeated  efforts  to  cross. 

While  Armstrong  was  suffering  under  these  strange  delusions, 
Felix  approached,  to  call  him  to  breakfast.  The  black  beheld 
him  walking  backwards  and  forwards,  with  orderly  and  com 
posed  steps,  and  congratulated  himself  upon  the  change  since 
the  day  before.  He  had  not,  however,  ventured  to  address  his 
master  since  being  ordered  away,  and  uncertain  how  he  would 
be  received,  preferred  to  be  spoken  to  first.  With  this  view,  he 
drew  nigh  one  of  the  flower-beds,  which  Armstrong  was  passing 
and  re-passing,  and  pretended  to  busy  himself  with  tying  up  one 
of  the  rose  bushes,  then  in  full  bloom.  Armstrong  did  not  see 
Felix  as  he  passed,  so  deep  was  his  reverie,  but  on  retracing  his 
steps,  he  observed  a  shadow  on  the  path,  which  occasioned  him 
to  lift  his  eyes,  when  he  discerned  the  black.  He  stopped  and 
spoke. 

"Felix,"  he  said,  "I  was  unkind  to  you  yesterday.  I  ask 
your  pardon." 

"  O,  Mr.  Armstrong,"  said  Felix,  his  eyes  protruding  with 
astonishment,  "there  is  no  'casion.  I  say  so  many  foolish 
things,  it  is  no  wonder  you  out  of  patience  sometime." 

"No,  Felix  ;  it  was  a  fancied  superiority  that  made  me  speak 
harshly.  You  have  always  been  a  good  and  faithful  servant," 
he  continued,  taking  out  his  pocket-book,  which  he  opened 
mechanically,  as  from  the  force  of  habit,  "  and  I  wish  I  had  it 
in  my  power  to  express  better  my  sense  of  the  obligation. 
But  why  do  I  open  it  ?"  he  said,  closing  at  the  same  time,  and 


438  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

offering  it  to  Felix.  "  You  will  find  here  what  may  be  of  use 
to  you,  though  I  think  there  is  little  enjoyment  purchasable 
with  money.'7 

"Why!  Mr.  Armstrong,"  cried  Felix,  stepping  back. 
"  What  for  do  I  want  more  money  ?  I  have  enough,  and  you 
will  please  keep  it,  sir,  to  give  some  poor  man  if  you  wish." 

"  You  are  right  to  despise  it,"  said  Armstrong.  "  It  shows  a 
superiority  of  soul.  Now  here  is  this  poor  black,"  he  went  on 
soliloquizing,  though  all  the  time  Felix  stood  before  him,  "  who 
has  learned  that  lesson  of  contentment  which  the  generality 
never  learn.  Rich  in  his  poverty  here,  an  inheritor  of  the 
skies,  I  have  only  insulted  him  by  so  contemptible  an  offer." 
His  head  sunk  upon  his  breast,  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  ground, 
his  pocket-book  dropped  from  his  unconscious  hand,  and  he 
resumed  his  walk.  The  negro  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  saying, 
to  himself : 

"  Yery  strange  !  Mr.  Armstrong  act  as  if  pocket-book 
chock  full  o'  bank-bills  grow  like  chick-weed,  but  I  will  take 
him  under  my  protecshum  till  I  give  him  to  Miss  Faith." 

Upon  Armstrong's  return  from  the  end  of  the  walk,  Felix 
delivered  himself  of  his  errand,  and  his  master  directed  his 
steps  towards  the  house. 

He  found  his  daughter  with  the  breakfast  apparatus  before 
her,  and  looking  as  fresh  and  charming  as  the  morning  itself. 

"You  have  shown  better  taste  than  I,  father,"  she  said. 
"You  have  been  enjoying  the  beauty  of  nature,  while  I  was 
lying  on  a  downy  pillow." 

"Sleep  is  sweet  to  the  young  and  healthy,"  said  Armstrong, 
"  and  my  selfishness  kept  you  up  so  late  last  night,  that  I  do 
not  wonder  you  are  not  as  early  as  usual." 

"  My  late  hours  have  clone  me  no  harm.  But  when  shall  we 
take  the  drive  you  promised  me  ?" 

"  At  any  time  that  is  most  agreeable  to  yourself." 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  439 

"  If  you  refer  it  to  me,  I  shall  not  long  hesitate." 
"  It  will  make  no  difference  with  me.     Choose,  yourself,  my 
darling." 

"  Then,  why  not  this  morning,  while  the  air  is  fresh  with  the 
dews  of  night,  and  before  the  roads  are  filled  with  dust  ?  I 
anticipate  a  great  -  deal  of  pleasure,  for  it  seems  to  me  some 
mystery  hangs  about  this  drive,  and  that  you  are  preparing  for 
me  a  delightful  surprise." 

Armstrong  started,  and  an  expression  of  pain  gathered  over 
his  face. 

"  That  was  earlier  than  I  intended,"  he  said,  "  but  a  few 
hours  can  make  no  difference." 

"If  it  is  not  perfectly  convenient  ;  if  you  have  another 
engagement,  put  it  off  later.  It  was  only  the  loveliness  of  the 
morning  which  made  me  select  it." 

"  I  have  no  other  engagement  so  important,"  said  Armstrong  ; 
"  it  is  of  great  importance  to  us  both  :  I  ought  to  gratify  any 

request  you  can  make,  but  " 

"  Why  hesitate,  dear  father,  to  make  your  own  choice  with 
out  regard  to  a  chance  expression  of  mine  ?  I  really  have  no 
preference  contrary  to  yours." 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  chance.  We  will  go  this  morn 
ing,  my  darling/'  said  Armstrong,  with  decision.  "  I  have 
observed,  there  are  some  persons  controlled  by  a  heavenly  influ 
ence,  which  prevents  their  erring.  I  have  felt  it  sometimes, 
and,  I  think  I  feel  it  now.  You  were  always  right  from  infancy. 
The  influence  upon  us  both  is  the*  same,  and,  I  am  convinced, 
we  should  follow  it." 

Accordingly,  shortly  after  breakfast,  Faith  and  her  father 
entered  the  coach,  which  was  driven  by  Felix.  The  route  they 
passed  over  was  the  same  taken  by  the  Judge  and  Armstrong, 
and  we  are,  therefore,  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  a  descrip 
tion.  Besides,  we  are  now  too  much  interested  in  Armstrong, 


440  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

to  allow  us  to  pay  much  attention  to  the  beauties  of  external 
nature.  Of  such  infinite  worth  is  a  human  being  ;  so  incalcu 
lably  grand  and  precious  those  faculties  and  powers  which  con 
nect  him  with  his  magnificent  source  ;  so  fraught  with  mystery 
the  discipline  he  endures,  a  mystery  in  which  each  one  endowed 
with  the  same  nature,  has  part,  that  the  natural  and  the 
visible  shrink  into  ^significance  in  comparison  with  the 
unseen  and  spiritual.  Of  what  consequence  is  a  world  of 
insensate  matter,  when  brought  into  competition  with  the 
immortal  spirit  ? 

Yaiu  would  be  the  attempt  to  describe  the  tumult  of  feelings 
that,  like  billows  of  fire,  dashed  through  the  soul  of  the  unfortu 
nate  man.     Sitting,  as  he  supposed,  for  the  last  time,  by  the 
side  of  one  dearer  than  life,  his  eyes  no  longer  dwelt  upon 
Faith,  with  that  expression  of  calm  and  boundless  love,  whence 
she  had  been  accustomed  to  drink  in  so  much  happiness.     Yet 
was  the  lore  all  there,  but  it  was  a  troubled  love,  a  love  full  of 
anguish.     What  sweetness  !  what  confidence  in  him  he  read  in 
her  face  !     It  was  like  the  placid  surface  of  a  mountain  lake, 
in  which  the  skies   delight  to  mirror  themselves— no  emotion 
hidden,  no  thought  concealed— and,  for  all  this  innocent  confi 
dence,  what  was  his  return  ?     He  was  entertaining,  in  his  mind, 
a  dreadful  purpose  ;  carefully  concealing  it  so  that  it  should  be 
beyond  the  power  of  suspicion,  and  inveigling  her  into  a  snare, 
which,  upon  being  discovered,  must  fill  her  young  heart  with  an 
agony  worse  than  death.     But  no  thought  of  swerving  from  his 
purpose  crossed  now  the  mind  of  Armstrong.     Considerations 
like  these  had  long  been  reflected  upon,  and  in  connection  with 
others,  been  able,  indeed,  to  retard  the  execution  of  his  design, 
but  not,  as  it  seemed,  to  defeat  it.     Whatever  weight  they 
might  have  had,  they  were  obliged  to  yield  to  more  powerful 
antagonists.     He  was  no  longer  a  free  agent.     A  force,  as  with 
the  grip  of  a  vice,  held  him  fast.     A  scourge,  whose  every  lash 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  441 

drew  blood,  as  it  were,  from  his  heart,  drove  him  on.  Beauti 
ful,  magnificent,  the  harmonious  and  healthy  play  of  the  human 
faculties  ;  horrid,  beyond  conception,  the  possible  chaos  of  their 
diseased  action  ! 

11  Meanwhile,  Faith,  ignorant  of  what  was  passing  in  her 
father's  mind,  endeavored  to  interest  him  in  the  objects  which 
attracted  her  attention,  but  in  vain.  The  moment  was  nigh 
which  was  to  accomplish  a  deed,  at  the  bare  contemplation  of 
which  his  whole  being  revolted ;  but,  to  whose  execution  he  felt 
drawn  by  a  power,  as  irresistible  by  him  as  is  that  force  which 
keeps  the  worlds  in  their  places,  by  those  rolling  spheres. 
Engrossed,  absorbed  by  one  dominating  idea,  there  was  no 
room  in  his  mind  for  another.  The  musical  tones  of  Faith's 
voice  ;  the  smiles  evoked  for  his  sake,  that  played  around  those 
lips  sweeter  than  the  damask  rose,  clustered  inevitably  about  that 
one  thought.  But,  he  felt  them  as  a  swarm  of  angry  bees,  that 
eagerly  settle  upon  a  living  thing  to  sting  it  into  torture/  That 
living  thing  was  his  burning,  sensitive  heart,  quivering,  bleed 
ing,  convulsed,  longing  for  the  bliss  of  annihilation.  And  thus,  in 
an  agony  far  greater  than  that  which  the  martyr  endures  in  the 
chariot  of  flame  which  is  to  waft  him  to  heaven,  as  the  suffer 
ings  of  the  immortal  spirit  can  exceed  those  of  the  perishable 
body,  the  insane  man  pursued  his  way.  How  unending  seemed 
that  road,  and  yet,  how  he  longed  that  it  might  extend  on  for 
ever  !  Within  the  time  of  each  revolution  of  the  wheels,  an  age 
of  torment  was  compressed  ;  yet,  how  he  dreaded  when  they 
should  stop  ! 

But  this  could  not  last,  and,  at  length,  the  coach  reached 
a  spot  where  Armstrong  proposed  they  should  alight.  Accord 
ingly,  he  assisted  Faith  oat,  and,  preceding  her,  they  took  their 
way  across  the  fields.  Faith,  unable  to  resist  the  attraction  of 
the  wild-flowers  scattered  beneath  her  feet,  stooped  occasionally 
to  pick  them,  and  soon  had  her  hands  full. 

19* 


442  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

"  What  a  pity  it  is,  father,"  she  said,  "  that  we  should  step 
upon  these  beautiful  things  !  They  seem  little  fairies,  en 
chanted  in  the  grass,  that  entreat  us  to  turn  aside  and  do  them 
no  harm." 

"It  is  our  lot,  in  this  world,  cursed  for  our  sakes,"  said 
Armstrong,  hoarsely,  "  to  crush  whatever  we  prize  and  love  the 
dearest." 

"  The  flower  is  an  emblem  of  forgiveness,"  said  Faith. 
"  Pluck  it,  and  it  resents  not  the  wrong.  It  dies,  but  with  its 
last  breath,  exhales  only  sweetness  for  its  destroyer." 

"  O,  God  !"  groaned  Armstrong.    "  Was  this,  too,  necessary? 

Wilt  thou  grind  me  between  the  upper  and  the  nether  millstone  ?" 

"  What  is    the  matter,  father  ?"  inquired   Faith,  anxiously. 

catching  some  words  between  his  groans.     "  0,  you  are  ill,  let 

us  return." 

"  No,  my  daughter,  there  is  no  return.  It  was  a  pang  like 
those  to  which  I  am  subject.  Will  they  ever  pass  off?" 

They  had  reached  the  open  space  of  ground  or  clearing  made 
by  Gladding,  and  Armstrong  advanced,  with  Faith  following, 
directly  to  the  pile  he  had  built  near  the  brook. 

"  What  a  beautiful  stream  !"  exclaimed  Faith.  "  How  it 
leaps,  as  if  alive  and  rejoicing  in  its  activity  !  I  always  con 
nect  happiness  with  life." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Armstrong.  "Life  is  wretched 
ness,  with  now  and  then  a  moment  of  delusive  respite  to  tempt 
us  not  to  cast  it  away." 

"  When  your  health  returns,  you  will  think  differently,  dear 
father.  Look!  how  enchanting. this  blue  over-arching  sky,  in 
which  the  clouds  float  -like  angels.  With  what  a  gentle  wel 
come  the  wind  kisses  our  cheeks,  and  rustles  the  leaves  of  the 
trees,  as  if  to  furnish  an  accompaniment  to  the  songs  of  the 
birds  which  flit  among  them,  while  the  dear  little  brook  laughs 
and  dances  and  claps  its  hands,  and  tells  us,  like  itself,  to  be 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  443 

glad.  There  is  only  one  thing  wanting,  father,  and  that  is,  that 
you  should  be  happy.  But  I  wonder  why  this  pile  of  wood 
was  built  up  so  carefully  near  the  edge  of  the  water." 

"  It  is  the  altar  on  which  I  am  commanded  to  sacrifice  thee, 
my  child,"  said  Armstrong,  seizing  her  by  the  arm,  and  drawing 
her  towards  it. 

There  was  a  horror  in  the  tones  of  his  voice,  a  despair  in  the 
expression  of  his  face,  and  a  lurid  glare  in  his  eyes,  that  explain 
ed  all  his  previous  conduct,  and  revealed  to  the  unhappy  girl  the 
full  danger  of  her  situation  ;  even  as  in  a  dark  night  a  sudden 
flash  of  lightning  apprises  the  startled  traveller  of  a  precipice 
over  which  his  foot  has  already  advanced,  and  the  gleam  serves 
only  to  show  him  his  destruction. 

"  Father,  you  cannot  be  in  earnest,"  she  exclaimed,  dreadfully 
alarmed  at  being  in  the  power  of  a  maniac,  far  from  assistance, 
"  you  do  not  mean  so.  Oh,"  she  said  throwing  herself  into  his 
arms,  "  I  do  not  believe  my  father  means  to  hurt  me." 

"  Why  do  you  not  fly  ?  Why  do  you  throw  your  arms  about 
me  ?  Do  you  think  to  defeat  the  decree  ?  Unwind  your  arms, 
I  say,  and  be  obedient  unto  death." 

So  saying,  with  a  gentle  force  he  loosed  the  hold  of  the  faint 
ing  girl,  who  with  one  hand  embracing  his  knees,  and  the  other 
held  up  to  deprecate  his  violence,  sunk  at  his  feet. 

"  God  have  mercy  upon  us  !  Christ  have  mercy  upon  us,"  her 
pale  lips  faintly  gasped. 

"  Faith,  my  precious,  my  darling,"  said  Armstrong,  with  a 
terrible  calmness,  as  he  drew  a  large  knife  out  of  his  bosom, 
"  You  know  I  do  not  this  of  myself,  but  I  dare  not  disobey  the 
command.  It  might  endanger  the  soul  of  my  child,  which  is 
dearer  than  her  life.  Think,  dear  child,  in  a  moment,  you  will 
be  in  Paradise.  It  is  only  one  short  pang,  and  all  is  over.  Let 
me  kiss  you  first."' 

He  stooped  down,  he  inclosed  her  in  his  arms,  and  strained  her 


THE      LOST      HUNTER. 


to  his  heart—  he  imprinted  innumerable  kisses  on  her  lips,  her 
eyes,  her  cheeks,  her  forehead—  he  groaned,  and  large  drops  of 
sweat  stood  on  his  face,  pressed  out  by  the  agony. 

"  You  will  see  your  .mother  and  my  brother  George,  Faith. 
Tell  them  not  to  blame  me.  I  could  not  help  it.  You  will  not 
blame  me,  I  know.  You  never  blamed  me  even  in  a  thought. 
I  wish  it  was  for  you  to  kill  me.  The  father,  it  would  seem 
ought  to  go  first,  and  I  am  very  weary  of  life." 

He  raised  the  knife,  and  Faith,  with  upturned  and  straining 
eyes,  saw  it  glittering  in  the  sunshine.  She  strove  to  cry  out, 
but  in  vain.  From  the  parched  throat  no  sound  proceeded. 
She  saw  the  point  about  to  enter  her  bosom.  She  shut  her 
eyes,  and  mentally  prayed  for  her  father.  At  that  moment,  as 
the  deadly  instrument  approached  her  heart,  she  heard  a  voice 
exclaim,  "Madman  forbear  !"  She  opened  her  eyes  :  the  knife 
had  dropped  from  her  father's  hand  ;  he  staggered  and  leaned 
against  the  altar.  A  few  words  will  explain  the  timely  inter 
ruption. 

When  Armstrong  and  his  daughter  left  the  carriage  to  cross 
the  field,  the  mind  of  Felix  was  filled  with  a  thousand  appre 
hensions.     He  would  have  followed  had  he  dared  to  leave  the 
horses,  but  this,  his  fear  of  the  consequences  if  the  hio'h-spirited 
animals  were  left  to  themselves,  forbade.     With  anxious  eyes 
he  pursued   the  receding  foot-steps  of  his    master  and  young 
mistress  until  they  were  lost  to  sight,  and  then,  with  a  foreboding 
of  evil,  hid  his  face  in  the  flowing  mane  of  one  of  the  horses,  as 
if  seeking  comfort  from  his  dumb  companion.     Some  little  time 
passed,  which  to  the  fearful  Felix  seemed  hours,  when,  whom 
should  he  see  but  the  man  whom  of  all  the  world  he  dreaded 
most.     It  was  Holden,  bounding  along  with  strides  which  showed 
that  the  habits  of  his  forest-life  were  not  forgotten.     At  any 
other  time  the  apparition  of  the   Solitary  would  have  imparted 
anything  but  pleasure,  but  now  it  was  as  welcome  as  a  spar  to 


TITE      LOST      HUNTER.  445 

a  shipwrecked  sailor.  Holden  advanced  straight  to  the  carriage, 
but  before  he  could  speak  the  black  addressed  him, 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Holden,  if  you  love  Mr.  Armstrong  and  Miss  Faith, 
go  after  them  quick  ;  don't  stop  a  minute." 

"  Where  are  they  ?"  said  Holden. 

"  They  go  in  that  direcshum,"  answered  Felix,  pointing  with 
his  chin,  across  the  field. 

"  How  long  ago  ?" 

"  Ever  so  long  ;  Oh,  good  Mr.  Holden,  do  hurry,"  said  Felix, 
whose  anxieties  made  him  magnify  the  progress  of  time. 

Holden  asked  no  further  questions,  but  increasing  his  speed, 
hastened  on  an  Indian  lope  in  the  direction  indicated,  following 
the  traces  in  the  grass. 

As  he  hurried  on,  his  dream  occurred  to  him.  The  features 
of  the  country  were  the  same  as  of  that  he  had  traversed  in  his 
sleep  :  he  remembered  also,  that  the  day  of  the  week  was  Friday. 
As  these  thoughts  came  into  his  mind,  they  stimulated  him  to 
press  on  with  increased  speed,  as  if  something  momentous 
depended  upon  the  swiftness  of  his  motions.  It  was  well  he  did 
so.  A  moment  later  might  have  been  too  late  ;  a  moment  more 
and  he  might  have  seen  the  fair  creature  he  so  loved  weltering 
in  her  blood.  Too  late  to  stay  the  uplifted  hand  of  the  deranged 
man  with  his  own,  he  had  uttered  the  cry  which  had  arrested 
the  knife. 

Holden  stooped  down,  and  taking  into  his  arms  the  insensible 
form  of  Faith,  bore  her  to  the  brook.  Here  he  lavishly  sprin 
kled  her  face  with  the  cool  water,  and  sobs  and  deep  drawn 
sighs  began,  after  a  time,  to  herald  a  return  to  consciousness. 
Armstrong  followed,  and  as  he  saw  the  pale  girl  lying  like  a 
corpse  in  the  arms  of  Holden,  he  threw  himself  down  by  her 
side  upon  the  grass,  and  took  her  passive  hand,  which  lay  cold 
in  his  own. 

"  She  is  not  dead,  is  she  ?"  said  he.    "  0,  say  to  me,  she  is  not 


446  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

dead.  I  thought  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven — I  expected  to 
hear  it — which  commanded  me  to  forbear.  Did  I  disobey  the 
angel  ?  Was  he  too  late  ?  Too  late,  too  late,  too  late  !  Oh, 
she  is  dead,  dead.  My  Faith,  my  daughter,  my  darling  !  0, 
God,  it  was  cruel  in  thee  !" 

But  presently,  as  we  have  said,  sighs  and  sobs  began  to 
heave  the  bosom  of  Faith,  and  as  she  opened  her  languid  eyes 
their  soft  light  fell  upon  the  face  of  her  father. 

With  a  cry  of  delight  he  sprang  from  the  ground.  "  She  is 
not  dead,"  he  exclaimed,  "  she  is  alive  !  I  knew  it  would  be  so. 
I  knew  it  was  only  a  trial  of  my  faith.  I  knew  God  would  send 
his  angel.  He  has  angels  enough  in  heaven.  What  does  he 
want  of  Faith  yet  ?  My  darling,"  he  said,  getting  down  and 
leaning  the  head  of  his  daughter  upon  his  bosom,  "  God  did  not 
mean  it  in  earnest.  He  only  meant  to  try  us.  It  is  all  over 
now,  and  hereafter  we  shall  be  so  happy  !" 

Holden,  who,  when  Faith  began  to  revive,  had  surrendered 
her  to  her  father,  stood  looking  on,  while  tears  streamed  down 
his  face.  Faith  had  now  so  far  recovered  as  to  sit  up  and  look 
about  her,  and  throwing  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck,  she 
hid  her  face  in  his  bosom.'*' 

"  My  brain  whirls,"  she  said,  "and  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  had 
had  a  dreadful  dream.  I  thought  you  wanted  to  kill  me,  father." 

"  No,  no,  no  !"  cried  Armstrong,  "  I  never  wanted  to.  It 
was  my  trial,"  he  added,  solemnly,  "  and  I  shall  never  have 
another,  Faith.  God  is  too  merciful  to  try  a  man  twice,  so." 

"James,"  said  Holden,  and  his  voice  sounded  with  unusual 
magnificence,  "  dost  thou  know  me  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Armstrong  ;  "  it  is  a  strange  question  to 
ask  me.  You  are  Mr.  Holden." 

"  I  am  thy  brother  George." 

Without  a  doubt,  without  a  misgiving,  Armstrong,  still  hold 
ing  his  daughter,  extended  his  hand  to  Holden. 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  447 

"  So,  George,"  he  said,  "  you  have  risen  from  the  dead  to  save 
Faith's  life.  I  knew  God  would  work  a  miracle  if  it  was 
necessary." 

"  I  trust  I  have  risen  from  the  death  of  sin,  but  I  have  never 
been  in  the  grave  of  which  thou  speakest.  Know  that  in  veri 
table  flesh  and  blood,  I  am  thy  brother  George,  who  hath  never 
tasted  of  death." 

But  this  was  an  idea  which  Armstrong  was  incapable  of 
receiving.  He  shook  his  head,  and  muttering  to  himself,  "  Can 
the  dead  lie  T'  looked  suspiciously  at  Holden. 

The  announcement  of  the  Solitary  struck  Faith,  at  once,  as  the 
truth.  Her  mind  was  in  no  condition  to  reason  and  compare 
proofs.  She  only  felt  how  sweet  had  been  her  intercourse  with 
him,  and  Ijiow  he  had  contrived  to  make  her  love  and  reverence 
him.  She  hoped  it  was  true,  he  was  her  long  lost  uncle,  and  she 
believed  it  because  she  hoped  it. 

"My  Uncle  George  !"  she  said,  as  attempting  to  rise  she 
received  his  embrace.  She  could  say  no  more.  The  agitation 
of  her  feelings  choked  her  voice  and  vented  itself  in  a  flood  of 
tears. 

"  What,  crying,  my  darling  ?"  said  Armstrong.  "  This  is  no 
time  for  tears.  You  should  rejoice,  for  is  not  George  here,  who 
left  his  grave  to  save  your  life,  and  has  not  our  faith  received 
its  triumphant  crown  ?" 

"  Alas  !"  exclaimed  Holden,  by  a  word  and  look  conveying 
his  meaning.  "  As  soon  as  you  are  able  to  walk,  dear  Faith, 
we  had  better  return  to  your  home." 

"I  think  I  am  sufficiently  restored,"  she  replied,  "if  you  will 
assist  me." 

Holden  gave  her  his  arm,  and  supported  her  to  the  carriage, 
followed  with  great  docility  by  Armstrong,  who  broke  out  into 
occasional  snatches  of  music,  once  a  common  habit,  but  in  which 
he  had  not  been  known  to  indulge  for  a  long  time. 


THE      LOST    HUXTER. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

0,  you  kind  gods, 

Cure  this  great  breach  in  his  abused  nature  ! 
The  untuned  and  jarring  senses  0,  wind  up  ! 

KING  LEAH. 

As  soon  as  they  reached  the  house  of  Armstrong,  Dr.  Elmer 
was  sent  for,  and  to  him  Holden  communicated  the'  events  of 
the  morning,  not  concealing  his  own  relationship.  This  last 
particular  was  a  case  not  provided  for  in  the  books,  or  coming 
within  the  scope  of  the  good  doctor's  practice.  Contenting 
himself,  therefore,  with  ejaculating, 

"  Is  this  the  lord  Talbot,  Uncle  Gloster, 
That  hath  so  long  been  resident  in  Prance?" 

he  shook  Holden  by  the  hand  as  an  evidence  of  welcome,  and, 
without  hesitation,  assented  to  the  propriety  of  the  Solitary's 
suggestion,  that  the  insanity  of  Armstrong  and  his  attempted 
violence,  should  be  kept  secret.  Rest  was  prescribed  by  the 
doctor  for  Faith,  whom,  contrary  to  her  inclinations,  he  com 
pelled  to  retire  to  her  chamber,  whither  he  sent  a  composing 
draught,  with  assurances  that  her  father  was  doing  well,  which 
declaration,  probably,  had  quite  as  much  effect  in  inducing  the 
slumbers  that  succeeded,  as  the  anodyne.  He  next  turned  his 
attention  to  her  father. 

No  one,  without  particular  observation,  would  have  remarked 
any  change  in  him.  Upon  returning  home,  he  had  quietly 
entered  the  parlor  and  sat  down  in  a  large  arm-chair,  which 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  449 

was  a  favorite  seat,  looking  first  around  with  a  grave  and 
pleased  expression.  His  daughter  was  with  him  then,  who, 
indeed,  until  the  arrival  of  the  physician,  had  remained  by  his 
side,  and  nothing  seemed  to  please  Armstrong  so  much  as 
retaining  her  hand  in  one  of  his,  to  pass  the  other  over  her 
silken  hair,  and  let  it  slide  down  over  the  pale  cheeks,  all  the 
time  gazing  at  her  with  an  appearance  of  infinite  affection.  But 
when  the  doctor  felt  his  pulse,  he  found  it  bounding  like  a 
frightened  steed  ;  and  this  symptom,  together  with  the  heigh 
tened  crimson  of  the  cheeks,  and  deepening  blackness  of  the  eyes, 
but  too  plainly  revealed  the  access  of  violent  fever.  Bleeding 
was  in  vogue  in  those  days,  and  much  practised,  and  the  skill  of 
Elmer  could  suggest  nothing  better  for  the  pressure  of  blood 
on  the  brain,  than  letting  blood.  Having  had,  therefore,  Arm 
strong  conducted  to  his  chamber,  he  opened  a  vein,  and  bleeding 
him  till  he  fainted,  he  afterwards  administered  the  medicines  he 
thought  proper,  enjoining  the  strictest  quiet,  promising  to  be 
with  him  every  moment  that  his  professional  engagements  per 
mitted.  During  the  whole  Armstrong  was  passive,  yielding 
himself  like  a  child  to  all  that  was  required,  and  seeming  to  be 
in  a  beatitude,  which  made  whatever  might  occur  of  but  little 
concernment.  As  the  doctor  was  about  leaving,  he  accepted  of 
Holderi's  proposal,  which  was  rather  uttered  as  a  determination, 
to  remain,  and  send  for  his  son.  "  If,"  thought  Elmer,  "  Holden 
is  Armstrong's  brother,  he  has  a  right  to  stay  ;  if  not,  he  has  at 
least  saved  Faith's  life,  as  she  says  herself,  and  he  knows  after 
all,  a  '  hawk  from  a  hand-saw.'  Young  Holden,  too,  is  a  sensible 
fellow,  and  I  think  I  may  trust  them."  In  some  such  way 
thronged  the  thoughts  through  Elmer's  mind.  "  I  will,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  stop  as  I  pass  Judge  Bernard's  house,  to  let 
Anne  know  that  her  friend  Faith  is  indisposed,  and  ask  her  to 
sleep  with  her  to-night."  Such,  accordingly,  was,  for  a  short 
time  the  composition  of  the  family  under  Mr.  Armstrong's  roof. 


450  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

Once  or  twice  during  the  night  Faith  started  in  her  sleep, 
and  threw  her  arm  around  her  lovely  companion,  as  if  to  ask 
for  protection,  and  Anne  heard  her  moaning  something  indis 
tinctly  ;  but,  on  the  whole,  her  sleep  was  refreshing,  and  in  the 
morning  she  awoke,  paler,  indeed,  and  weaker  than  common, 
but  with  no  other  signs  of  illness  about  her. 

"  They  will  soon  pass  off,"  said  the  doctor.  "  It  was  a  severe 
shock,  but  youth  and  a  good  constitution  are  great  odds.'7 

But  it  was  not  so  with  Armstrong.  The  combined  effects  of 
loss  of  blood  and  of  the  medicines  he  had  taken,  were  unable  to 
calm  the  excitement  of  the  nerves,  much  less  produce  drowsiness. 
All  night  he  lay  with  eyes  wide  open,  burning  with  fever,  and  call 
ing  for  drink.  But,  although  his  body  suffered,  the  exaltation  of 
his  mind  continued  to  triumph  over  pain,  and,  from  the  words 
that  escaped  him,  from  time  to  time,  it  would  seem  as  if  he  felt 
himself  absolutely  happy. 

When  Doctor  Elmer  came  in  the  morning,  and  heard  the 
report  of  Holden,  he  expressed  no  surprise. 

"It  is  as  I  supposed,"  he  said.  "  He  must  have  a  run  of 
fever,  and  what  the  result  may  be,  no  mortal  man  can  divine. 
Let  us  hope  for  the  best,  while  prepared  for  the  worst." 

Faith,  from  the  moment  she  was  permitted,  was  assiduous  by 
the  bed-side  of  her  father.  The  delusion  with  respect  to  Hol 
den,  which  had  taken  possession  of  him,  whom,  while  continuing 
to  recognize  as  his  brother,  George,  he  would  not  believe  was 
alive,  fancying  it  was  his  spirit,  extended  itself  after  a  time  to 
his  daughter,  whom  also  he  believed  to  be  dead.  So  far  as 
could  be  gathered  from  the  disjointed  utterances  that  escaped 
him,  he  supposed  that  his  own  spirit  was  trying  to  escape  from 
the  body,  and  that  the  spirits  of  his  brother  and  daughter  had 
been  sent  to  comfort  and  assist  him. 

Thus  tossing  and  tumbling  on  a  heated  bed,  which  the  deli 
cious  breath  of  June,  streaming  through  the  open  windows, 


THE      LOST     HUNTER.  451 

could  not  cool  for  him,  passed  nine  long  wretched  days,  during 
which  the  confinement  of  both  Holden  and  Faith  was  almost 
incessant,  for  whenever  either  moved  from  the  bed  or  made  a 
motion  as  if  to  leave  the  room,  Armstrong  would  intreat  them, 
in  the  most  touching  tones  and  pathetic  language,  which  neither 
the  brother's  nor  daughter's  heart  could  withstand,  not  to  leave 
him,  for  he  was  just  then  ready,  only  one  more  struggle  was 
necessary,  and  he  should  be  free.  And  besides  carrying  into  his 
insanity  a  habit,  of  which  we  have  spoken,  he  would  insist  on 
holding  their  hands.  The  touch  of  their  heavenly  bodies,  he 
said,  sent  a  sensation  of  roses  and  lilies  through  his  earthly 
body  ;  they  refined  him  and  attracted  him  upward,  and  he  was 
sure  he  had  sometimes  risen  a  little  way  into  the  air.  "0  !"  he 
would  exclaim,  "  I  never  knew  before,  how  much  flowers  resem 
ble  spirits.  They  smile  and  laugh  alike,  and  their  voices  are 
very  similar." 

On  the  tenth  day  the  fever  abated,  and  Armstrong  gradually 
fell  into  a  long,  deep  sleep.  So  long,  so  profound  was  the 
slumber  that  the  attendants  about  his  bed  feared  that  it  might 
be  one  from  which  there  was  no  awaking.  But  the  orders  of 
the  doctor,  who,  at  the  crisis  was  present  the  whole  time,  were 
peremptory  that  the  patient  should  not  be  disturbed,  but  Nature 
allowed,  in  her  own  way,  to  work  out  her  beneficent  purposes. 
Armstrong  then  slept  many,  many  hours,  in  that  still  and 
darkened  room,  while  attentive  ears  were  listening  to  the  deeper 
drawn  breath,  and  anxious  eyes  watching  the  slightest  change 
of  countenance. 

At  last  he  awoke,  and  the  first  word  he  spoke,  so  low,  that 
even  in  the  hushed  chamber  it  was  scarcely  audible,  was, 
"  Faith."  A  smile  of  wonderful  sweetness  illuminated  his  face, 
as  he  tried  to  extend  his  hand,  white  as  the  snowy  coverlet  on 
which  it  rested,  toward  her,  but  so  weak  was  he,  that  only  a 
motion  of  the  fingers  could  be  perceived.  Faith,  through  tho 


452  THE      LOST      HUNTER 


tears  which  fell  upon  the  hand  she  covered  with  kisses,  C( 
mark  the  light  of  returned  intelligence,  and  her  heart  swel. 
with  an  almost  overpowering  emotion. 

"  0,  doctor,"  she  said,  turning  to  Elmer,    "  say  he  is  safe."  1 

"I  hope  so,"  answered  Elmer,  "  but  control  yourself.  I  for 
bid  all  agitation." 

The  life  of  Armstrong,  for  some  days  longer,  vibrated  in  the 
balance.  So  excessive  was  the  weakness  consequent  upon  thf; 
tremendous  excitement  through  which  he  had  passed,  that  some 
times  it  appeared  hardly  possible  that  nature  could  sufficient!}* 
rally,  to  bring  the  delicate  machinery  again  into  healthy  action" 
But  stealing  slowly  along,  insensibly,  the  gracious  work  went 
on,  until  one  day  the  anxious  daughter  had  the  happiness  to 
hear  from  the  lips  of  the  doctor  that  her  father  was  out  of 
danger. 

It  seems  a  strange  thing,  but  so  it  is,  that  the  events  of  the 
dreadful  day,  when,  as  if  by  a  heavenly  interposition,  his  hand 
had  been  arrested  when  raised  to  take  away  the  life  of  his 
daughter,  and  also  of  the  time  when  he  lay  insane  upon  his  bed, 
were  blotted  completely  from  the  memory  of  Armstrong.  The 
scratches  of  a  school-boy  on  a  slate  were  never  more  perfectly 
erased  by  a  wet  sponge.  All  his  conduct  proves  this.  When 
he  beheld  his  brother  after  the  return  of  reason,  he  addressed 
him  as  Mr.  Holden,  and  never,  in  conversation  with  any  one, 
did  he  make  allusion  to  his  aberration  of  mind.  Nor  during 
the  short  period  while  he  remained  on  earth,  did  he  know  of  his 
conduct  on  the  banks  of  the  Wootiippocut.  The  secret  was 
confined  to  the  bosoms  of  a  few,  and  it  was  mutually  agreed 
that  it  was  wisest  it  should  be  concealed. 

It  was  not  until  the  health  of  Armstrong  seemed  completely 
restored  that  his  brother,  in  the  presence  of  his  son  and  of 
Faith,  disclosed  his  relationship.  He  ha.d  made  it  known  before 
to  his  son,  to  whom,  as  well  as  to  his  father,  we  must,  for  the 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  453 


brief  period  our  acquaintance  with  them  continues,  give  their 
true  name  of  Armstrong.  It  may  well  be  conceived,  that  young 
Armstrong  had  no  objections  to  recognize  in  the  lovely  Faith  a 
cousin,  nor  was  she  unwilling  to  find  a  relative  in  the  amiable 
and  intelligent  young  man. 

But,  if  they  were  pleased,  how  shall  we  express  the  happiness 
of  James  Armstrong  ?  The  sting  of  a  sorrow  that  had  poi 
soned  so  many  years  of  his  life  was  extracted.  If  he  had  been 
the  cause  of  misfortune  to  his  brother,  he  had  it  now  in  his 
power  to  repair,  in  a  degree,  the  wrong  he  had  inflicted.  Nor 
had  he  recovered  only  a  brother,  but  also  a  nephew,  whom  he 
could  love  and  respect,  and  who  would,  in  some  measure,  sup 
ply  the  loss  of  his  son,  by  transmitting  his  family  name,  the 
extinction  of  which  no  man  can  regard  with  indifference. 

Long  was  the  conversation  of  the  brothers  after  their  chil 
dren  had  left  them  to  themselves.  Together  they  wandered 
over  the  scenes  of  childhood,  recalling  its  minutest,  and,  what 
would  be  to  strangers,  uninteresting  scenes,  George  Armstrong 
listening,  with  a  sad  pleasure,  to  the  details  of  his  parents'  lives 
after  his  own  escape  from  the  Asylum,  and,  also,  to  changes  in 
the  family  of  his  brother  since  their  death  ;  while  James  Arm 
strong  as  eagerly  drank  in  the  particulars  of  his  brother 
George's  adventures.  But  little  respecting  the  latter  need  be 
added,  after  what  has  been  disclosed. 

We  already  know,  that  George  Armstrong  married,  in  one  of 
tfce  Western  States,  and  commenced  the  life  of  a  pioneer,  and 
that,  in  a  night  attack,  his  cabin  had  been  burned,  his  wife 
killed,  and  his  son  carried  away  by  the  savages.  It  would  seem 
that  the  effect  of  these  misfortunes  was  again  to  disturb  his  rea 
son,  and  that,  urged  by  a  passion  for  revenge,  he  had  made  him 
self  terrible,  under  the  name  of  Onontio  (given  by  the  natives, 
with  what  meaning  is  unknown,)  among  the  Western  Indians. 
But,  after  a  time,  the  feeling  passed  away,  and  he  became, 


454  THE      LOST     HUNTER. 

somehow,  a  subject  of  religious  impressions,  which  assumed  the 
shape  of  a  daily  expectation  of  the  Coming  of  Christ,  joined 
with  a  firm  belief  in  the  doctrine  of  predestination.  In  this 
frame  of  mind,  influenced  by  a  feeling  like  the  instinct,  perhaps, 
of  the  bird  which  returns  from  the  southern  clime,  whither  the 
cold  of  winter  has  driven  it,  to  seek  again  the  tree  where  hung 
the  parental  nest,  George  Armstrong  came  back  to  the  place 
of  his  birth.  He  was  supposed  to  be  dead,  and,  even  without 
any  such  prepossession,  no  one  would  have  recognized  him  ;  for, 
the  long  beard  he  had  suffered  to  grow,  and  the  sorrow  and 
hardship  he  had  undergone,  gave  him  an  appearance  of  much 
more  advanced  age  than  his  elder  brother,  and  effectually  dis 
guised  him.  Why,  instead  of  taking  possession  of  the  cabin,  on 
Salmon  Island,  and  secluding  himself  from  society,  he  did  ngt 
make  himself  known  to  his  brother  and  demand  his  inheritance, 
always  puzzled  the  gossips  of  Hillsdale,  and  yet,  it  appears  to 
us,  susceptible  of  explanation. 

When  he  came  from  the  West,  he  felt,  at  first,  as  if  the  ties 
which  had  united  him  to  the  world,  were  broken,  never  to  be 
renewed.  What  he  most  prized  and  loved  he  had  lost.  He 
was  an  exception  to  other  men.  He  had  been  isolated  by  des 
tiny,  whose  iron  finger  pointed  to  solitude,  and  solitude  he 
chose  as  most  congenial  to  his  bruised  spirit.  But,  besides,  an 
idea  had  mastered  him,  in  whose  presence  the  vanities  and 
indulgences  of  the  world  and  all  worldly  considerations,  shrunk- 
into  insignificance.  Of  what  consequence  were  wealth  and  dis 
tinction  to  one  who  looked  momently  for  the  introduction  of  a 
state  of  things,  when  they  would  be  of  less  importance  than  the 
baubles  of  a  child  ?  The  gay  world  might  laugh  and  jest  in  its 
delusion,  but  it  was  for  him  to  watch  and  pray.  Some  feeling 
of  resentment,  too,  towards  his  brother,  may  have  helped  to 
color  his  conduct.  As  time,  however,  wore  on,  his  heart  began 
to  expand  to  human  affections  ;  for  we  have  seen,  how  fond  he 


THE     LOST      HUNTER.  455 

became  of  the  society,  first,  of  Faith,  and,  finally,  of  his  bro 
ther  ;  deriving,  possibly,  a  sort  of  insane  gratification  from  even 
the  concealment  of  his  relationship,  as  a  miser  gloats  over  the 
security  of  his  hoard.  It  is,  indeed,  probable,  that,  but  for  the 
discovery  of  his  son,  he  would  have  died  without  betraying  the 
secret,  but,  that  discovery  awakened  anew  feelings  which  he 
never  expected  to  have  again  in  this  life.  He  looked  upon 
his  son  and  the  inheritance,  which  to  him  was  valueless, 
assumed  an  importance.  And  it  may  be — who  can  tell  ? — that, 
sometimes,  a  doubt — for  how  long  had  he  waited  in  vain  ? — 
might  throw  a  shadow  over  his  expectation  of  the  Millennium. 
But  this  we  ha.ve  no  means  of  determining,  and,  as  we  shall 
presently  see,  his  subsequent  life  rather  sustains  the  opposite 
opinion. 


456  THE      L  O  6  T      H  U  iN  T  E 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

By  his  great  Author  man  was  sent  below, 
Some  things  to  learn,  great  pains  to  undergo, 
To  fit  him  for  what  further  he's  to  know. 

This  end  obtained,  without  regarding  time, 
He  calls  the  soul  home  to  its  native  clime, 
To  happiness  and  knowledge  more  sublime. 

ALLAN  RAMSAY. 

THE  period  of  time  which  has  elapsed  since  the  occurring  of 
the  events  detailed  in  the  preceding  chapters,  enables  us  to  give 
a  tolerably  full  account  of  the  destiny  of  the  actors,  who,  for  the 
space  of  a  few  months,  have  flitted  across  our  stage. 

James  Armstrong  lived  in  the  enjoyment  of  pretty  good 
health  some  two  years  after  his  recovery.  The  melancholy  with 
which  nature  had  tinged  his  disposition  was,  indeed,  never  quite 
eradicated,  but  probably  those  two  years  were  the  sweetest  and 
sunniest  of  his  life.  Those  whom  he  most  loved  were  prosperous 
and  happy,  and  the  reflection  of  their  happiness  shone  upon  his 
daily  walk.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he  fell  asleep,  and  in  the 
confidence  of  a  lively  faith  and  the  comfort  of  a  holy  hope,  was 
gathered  to  his  fathers.  Immediately  upon  the  restoration  of 
his  reason  he  had  divided  his  estate  with  his  brother,  or  rather 
with  his  nephew,  for  the  Solitary  refused  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  wealth.  It  would  be  to  him,  he  said,  a  burden.  He 
was  not  a  pack-horse,  to  carry  loads,  though  they  were  made  of 
gold. 

With  whatever  eyes,  however,  the   possession   of  property 


THE      LOST      HUNTER.  451 

might  be  viewed  by  George  Armstrong,  his  son,  who,  within  a 
few  months  afterwards,  was  united  to  Anne  Bernard,  with  even 
the  approbation  of  her  brother,  considered  the  addition  thereby 
made  to  his  income  as  no  disagreeable  circumstance.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Pownal,  the  benefactors  of  his  youth,  were  present,  and  the 
former  had  the  satisfaction  of  dancing  at  the  wedding.  No  mar 
riage  could  be  more  fortunate.  A  similarity  of  taste  and  feeling 
and  the  harmonies  of  virtue  had  originally  attracted  and  attached 
each  to  the  other.  Anne  had  loved  Armstrong  because  she 
recognized  in  him  her  own  truthfulness  and  nobility  of  spirit,  and 
he  her,  for  her  grace  and  beauty,  and  that  inexpressible  charm 
of  sweetness  o'f  temper  and  gaiety  of  spirit,  that,  like  the  sun, 
diffuses  light  and  animation  around.  Their  career  has  been  like 
a  summer-day.  A  numerous  family  of  children  has  sprung  from 
the  union,  who  promise  to  perpetuate  the  virtues  of  their 
parents.  And  it  is  to  be  hoped,  and  we  believe  it  to  be  a  fact 
which  the  passage  of  so  many  years  may  be  considered  to  have 
tolerably  settled,  that  the  fatal  blood-taint  of  insanity,  which 
had  seemed  hereditary  on  the  side  of  one  of  the  parents,  has 
disappeared. 

As  for  the  Solitary,  who  survived  his  brother  many  years,  he 
could  never  be  weaned  from  the  mode  of  life  he  had  adopted. 
As  long  as  James  Armstrong  lived,  they  were  frequently 
together,  few  days  passing  without  one  seeking  the  other,  as  if 
both  were  striving  to  make  up  for  their  long  separation,  but 
yet  George  Armstrong  preferred  the  rude  simplicity  of  his 
hut,  and  his  hard  couch,  to  the  elegant  chamber  and  yielding 
bed,  nor  could  he  be  persuaded  to  stop  more  than  a  night  or 
two  at  any  one  time,  either  at  the  house  of  his  brother  or  of  his 
son.  The  efforts  made  to  change  this  feeling  were  soon  found 
to  be  unavailing,  and  his  commanding  temper,  as  usual,  had  its 
way.  After  'the  death  of  his  brother,  his  visits  to  the  village 
became  less  frequent,  and  he  was  seldom  to  bo  met  with,  except 

20 


458  THE     LOST     HUNTER. 

at  the  house  of  his  son.  It  was  a  strange  sight  to  see  him,  with 
two  or  three  grand-children  on  his  knees,  and  playing,  perhaps, 
with  one  of  the  little  ones,  amusing  itself  with  hiding  behind  the 
flowing  majesty  of  his  long  beard.  A  great  part  of  his  time 
was  passed  among  the  Indians  living  on  the  banks  of  the  Severn, 
to  the  amelioration  of  whose  condition  and  Christianization  he 
devoted  himself  to  the  last.  And  some  insist  that  he  never 
quite  gave  up  the  expectation  of  the  Millennium  during  his  life, 
for  early  fishermen,  passing  his  hut  before  sunrise,  are  said  to 
have  reported  that  they  had  seen  the  Solitary  more  than  once, 
waiting  for  the  rising  sun,  and  heard  his  bursts  of  passionate 
expectation.  An  occurrence,  too,  at  his  death,  which  happened 
at  the  house  of  his  son,  justifies  this  opinion — when  sitting  up 
suddenly  in  his  bed,  he  stretched  out  his  arms,  and  exclaiming 
with  a  wild  energy,  "  Lord,  Thou  art  faithful  and  true,  for  I 
behold  Thy  coming,"  he  fell  back  upon  the  pillow  and  expired. 
From  respect  to  the  memory  of  his  father,  his  son  bought  the 
island  where  the  Solitary  lived  so  many  years,  and  having 
planted  it  with  trees,  declares  it  shall  never  pass  out  of  the 
family  during  his  own  life,  and  so  long  as  it  can  be  protected  by 
his  will. 

Judge  Bernard,  his  wife,  the  doctor,  and  the  Pownals  are 
gone,  and  the  three  former  repose  with  their  friends  in  the 
romantic  burial  ground,  to  which  we  once  before  conducted  our 
readers  ;  the  two  latter  in  the  cemetery  of  the  thronged  city, 
undisturbed  by  the  sounding  tread  of  the  multitudes  who  daily 
pass  their  graves. 

William  Bernard,  about  the  time  of  the  marriage  of  his  sister, 
made  a  formal  offer  of  his  hand  to  Faith,  but  without  success. 
He  was  refused  gently,  but  so  decidedly,  that  no  room  was  left 
for  hope.  But  if  the  enamored  young  man  lost  his  mistress,  he 
was  satisfied  there  was  no  rival  in  the  case,  and  moreover  that 
probably  there  never  would  be.  So  selfish  is  the  human  heart, 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  459 

that  this  reflection  mitigated  the  bitterness  of  his  disappoint 
ment.  Convinced  that  the  prospect  of  altering  her  determina 
tion  was  hopeless,  and  unable  to  remain  in  her  presence,  he 
made  a  voyage  to  Europe,  where  he  remained  five  years,  and  on 
his  return,  entered  into  political  life.  He  has  since  filled  many 
eminent  stations  with  credit  to  himself  and  advantage  to  the 
country,  and  only  delicacy  restrains  us  from  naming  the  high 
position  he  now  occupies,  of  course  under  a  different  name 
from  that  we  have  chosen  to  give  him.  But  he  has  never 
found  another  being  to  fill  the  void  in  his  affections,  and 
remains  unmarried,  the  most  graceful  and  attractive  of  old 
bachelors. 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  Faith,  the  pure,  the  high  souled 
the  devoted  Faith  ?  As  long  as  her  father  lived,  he  continued 
to  be  the  object  of  her  incessant  solicitude.  She  watched  him 
with  a  tenderness  like  that  of  a  mother  hovering  about  her  sick 
infant,  devoting  her  whole  life  to  his  service,  and  when  he  died, 
the  tears  she  shed  were  not  those  of  complaining  grief,  but  of  a 
sad  thankfulness.  Sad  was  she  that  no  more  in  this  world  should 
she  behold  him  whom  she  had  ever  treasured  in  her  inner  heart ; 
thankful  that  with  unclouded  reason  and  resigned  trust,  he  had 
returned  to  the  Source  whence  he  came.  Soon  after  his  death, 
she  joined  her  uncle  in  his  labors  among  the  Indians,  abandoning 
her  home  and  devoting  the  whole  of  her  large  income  to  the  pro 
motion  of  their  interests.  There  was  much  in  her  character  that 
resembled  that  of  George  Armstrong,  and  notwithstanding  the 
disparity  of  years,  caused  each  to  find  an  attractive  counterpart 
in  the  other.  There  was  the  same  enthusiasm,  trespassing  from 
constitutional  tendencies,  upon  the  very  verge  of  reason;  the  same 
contempt  of  the  world  and  its  allurements  ;  the  same  reaching 
forward  toward  the  invisible.  Her  surpassing  beauty,  her 
accomplishments  and  great  wealth,  brought  many  suitors  to  her 


460  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

feet,  but  she  had  a  heart  for  none.  She  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 
their  pleadings,  and  "  in  maiden  meditation  fancy  free,"  pursued 
her  course  like  the  pale  moon  through  heaven.  Perhaps  the 
awful  shock  which  she  received  on  the  terrible  day  when  the 
appearance  of  her  uncle  saved  her  life,  working  on  a  tempera 
ment  so  exalted,  may  have  contributed  to  confirm  and  strengthen 
what  was  at  first  only  a  tendency,  and  so  decided  the  character 
of  her  life.  She  died  as  such  gifted  beings  are  wont  to  do, 
young,  breathing  out  her  delicate  soul  with  a  smile,  upon  the 
bosom  of  her  faithful  friend,  Anne  Armstrong.  A  purer  spirit, 
and  one  better  fitted  to  join  the  bright  array  of  the  blessed, 
never  left  the  earth,  and  to  those  who  knew  her,  it  looked  dark 
and  desolate  when  she  departed. 

We  have  thus  disposed  of  the  principal  personages  in  our 
drama.  It  remains  to  speak  of  some  of  those  who  have  borne 
an  inferior  part  in  the  scenes. 

Esther  left,  with  Quadaquina,  for  the  Western  tribes  about 
the  time  when  the  boy  attained  the  age  of  sixteen  years,  and 
historical  accuracy  compels  us  to  admit,  that,  since  their  depar 
ture,  we  have  lost  all  traces  of  them.  One  would  suppose 
she  would  have  remained  with  her  powerful  protectors,  but  it 
may  be  she  feared  the  demoralization  around  her,  to  which,  in 
spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  benevolent  to  the  contrary,  so  many 
of  her  fated  race  fell  victims,  and  preferred  to  expose  Quada 
quina  to  the  perils  of  savage  life,  rather  than  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  civilization.  We  strongly  suspect,  that  her  wild 
creed  was  never  fairly  weeded  out  of  her  heart. 

Primus  remained  to  the  end  the  same  cheery,  roguish  fellow 
we  have  seen  him,  and  when  he  died  was  buried,  as  became  a 
revolutionary,  celebrity,  with  military  honors,  which  so  affected 
Felix,  that,  when  his  turn  came — knowing  that  he  was  entitled 
to  no  such  distinction,  and,  yet  loth  to  pass  away  unnoticed — he 


THE     LOST     HUNTER.  461 

begged  Doctor  Elmer  to  write  him  a  "  first-rate  epithet."  The 
doctor  redeemed  his  promise,  by  prefacing  a  panegyric,  in  Eng 
lish,  with  the  following  quotation  from  Yirgil— 

Hicjacet 
FELIX   QUI 

Potult  Rerum  cogn  oscere  Causas 

QUI 

Que  Metus  omnes 
Et  inexorabile  Fatum 

Subjecit  Pedibus 
Strepitumque  Acherontis  avari. 

The  doctor,  on  being  asked  its  meaning,  one  day,  by  an  inqui 
sitive  negro,  who  had,  for  some  time,  been  rolling  the  whites  of 
his  eyes  at  the  inscription,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  understand  it, 
replied,  it  meant  that  Felix  was  an  intelligent  and  brave  fellow, 
who  lived  like  a  wise  man,  and  died  like  a  hero,  whereat,  his 
auditor  expressed  great  satisfaction,  considering  both  the  Latin 
and  the  sentiment  a  compliment  to  "  colored  pussons,"  gene 
rally. 

Gladding  emigrated  to  the  West,  where  his  stout  arm  and 
keen  axe  did  himself  and  the  State  good  service.  After  making 
a  fabulous  number  of  "  claims,"  and  as  many  "  trades,"  he 
found  himself,  at  middle  age,  the  master  of  a  thousand  acres  of 
cleared  land,  with  a  proper  proportion  of  timber  ;  his  log-cabin 
converted  into  a  brick  house,  and  sons  and  daughters  around 
him. 

We  had  almost  forgotten  to  speak  of  the  fate  of  Constable 
Basset.  The  good  people  of  Hillsdale  soon  found  out  that  his 
talents  did  not  lie  in  the  line  he  had  adopted,  and,  at  the  next 
election,  chose  another  in  his  place.  Thereupon,  not  discou 
raged,  he  turned  his  hand,  with  national  facility,  to  something 
else — following,  successively,  the  business  of  a  small  grocer,  of  a 
tavern  keeper,  and  of  an  auctioneer.  Somehow  or  other,  how 
ever,  ill  luck  still  followed  him  ;  and,  finally,  he  took  to 


462  THE      LOST      HUNTER. 

bating  the  village  newspaper,  and  sticking  up  handbills.  This 
gave  him  a  taste  for  politics,  and  having  acquired,  in  his 
employment  as  auctioneer,  a  certain  fluency  of  speech,  he  culti 
vated  it  to  that  degree — in  town  meetings  and  on  other  public 
occasions — that,  in  the  end,  there  was  not  a  man  in  the  whole 
county  who  could  talk  longer  and  say  less.  His  fellow-citizens 
Observing  this  congressional  qualification,  and  not  knowing 
what  else  he  was  fit  for,  have  just  elected  him  to  Congress, 
partly  because  of  this  accomplishment,  and,  partly,  on  account 
of  his  patriotic  dislike  of  "  furriners,"  a  sentiment  which  hap 
pens  now  to  be  popular.  Both  his  friends  and  enemies  agree 
that  he  is  destined  to  make  a  figure  there  ;  and  Mr.  Thomas 
Armstrong— in  compensation,  perhaps,  for  a  youthful  trick — 
has  promised  the  Member  of  Congress  a  new  hat  and  full  suit 
of  black  broadcloth,  to  enable  him  to  appear  in  proper  style  on 
Pennsylvania  Avenue. 


THE      END 


j.  c.  DERBY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


THE  GREAT  DELUSION  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


SPIRIT-BAPPINQ    UNVEILED  ! 

AN   EXPOSE    OF  THE    ORIGIN,   HISTORY,   THEOLOGY,   AND  PHILOSOPHY 

OP    CERTAIN    COMMUNICATIONS   WITH    THE    SPIRIT    WORLD, 

BY     MEANS      OP     "  SPIRIT-RAPPING,7'       "  MEDIUM 

WRITING,"    &C. 

BY  THE  REV.   H,  MATISON,  A.  M. 

With  Illustrations.    A  new  edition,  with  an  Appendix,  containing  much 
additional  matter.     One  12mo  vol.,  price  75  cents. 

"  This  book  is  sufficient  to  make  any  man  cry,  if  it  did  not  make  him  laugh.  And  it 
has  made  us  laugh  heartily,  not  the  book  itself,  or  its  style,  but  the  subject  as  it  stands 
divested  of  the  miserable,  but  cunning  accessories  which  charlatans  have  wound  round 
it.  The  subject  is  completely  dissected,  body  and  bones, if  anything  '  spiritual'  can  be 
said  ta  have  those  human  necessaries.  It  is  strangled,  torn  asunder,  dragged  like  the 
less  hideous  Caliban  through  briars,  and  torn  on  the  inquisitorial  wheel  of  the  author's 
research,  shook  out  like  dust  from  a  Dutchman's  pipe,  swept  down  like  so  much  cobweb, 
riddled  like  the  target  of  a  crack  company,  and  altogether  '  used  up '—in  fact,  in  the 
words  of  Sir  Charles  Coldstream,  there  is  '  nothing  in  it.'  The  illustrations  are  very 
humorous  and  numerous,  and  the  printing  excellent." — National  democrat. 

"  Mr.  Matison  attacks  the  subject  at  its  advent  in  Rochester ;  scatters  the  '  Fox  '  aiid 
4  Fish  '  families  to  the  winds  with  his  pertinent  reasoning  and  well-directed  sarcasm; 
marks  its  progress,  upsetting  more  theories  than  the  spirits  ever  did  tables,  and  by 
copious  extracts  from  noted  'spiritual'  publications,  shows  the  pernicious  tendencies  of 
'the  new  philosophy,'  exhibiting  more  deep-laid  villainy  than  even  its  most  inveterate 
enemies  had  supposed  it  capable  of  possessing." — Worcester  Palladium. 

"  It  is  decidedly  the  best  thing  we  have  seen  on  the  subject.  It  is  a  book  of  keen  logic: 
withering  satire,  and  unanswerable  facts.  He  has  stripped  to  absolute  nudity,  this  sys 
tem  of  delusion  arid  infidelity  ;  showing  its  abettors  to  be  composed  of  knaves  and 
fools !— deceivers  and  deceived.  Let  it  pass  round."— Pittsburgh  Christian  Advocate. 

"  We  can  only  heartily  and  confidently  recommend  it  to  our  readers,  as  thoroughly 
'  unveiling  '  the  latest  humbug  of  our  day,  showing  it  up  in  all  its  nakedness  and  defor 
mity,  and  leaving  us  nothing  more  to  desire  on  the  subject  of  which  it  treats." — N.  F. 
Church  Advocate  and  Journal. 

"This  is  a  well  printed  volume  of  some  200  pages.  The  author  is,  of  course,  a 
disbeliever  in  modern  spiritualism,  and  the  book  is  the  result  of  his  investigations  of  the 
eo-called  phenomenon.  It  gives  a  history  of  the  rise  of  spirit  knocking,  in  connection 
with  the  Fox  family,  and  its  progress  to  medium  writing,  table  tipping,  &c.  The  writer 
seems  to  have  performed  the  task  he  gave  himself  with  considerable  thoroughness  and 
great  industry.  We  commend  the  book  to  the  perusal  of  those  who,  unwilling  to  give  up 
common  sense  and  the  teachings  of  reason  and  philosophy,  have,  nevertheless,  found  in 
the  demonstrations  of  so-called  Spiritualism  much  that  they  have  been  unable  to  account 
for  except  upon  tb«  theory  of  the  <  Sp'ritnalists  '  themselves."— 7Voy  Whig. 


j    c.  DERBY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


JACK    DOWNING'S   NEW   BOOK! 


•WAY      DOWN      EAST; 

OR,   PORTRAITURES   OF   YANKEE   LIFE. 

BY  SEBA  SMITH,  ESQ. 
Illustrated,  12mo.    Price  $1. 

"  We  greet  the  Major,  after  a  long  interval,  with  profound  pleasure  and  respest.  Well 
do  we  remember  how,  years  ago,  we  used  to  pore  over  his  lucubrations  on  the  events  of 
the  time— how  he  enlightened  us  by  his  home-views  of  the  Legislature's  doings,  of  the 
Gineral's  intentions,  and  of  the  plans  of  ambitious  Uncle  Joshua.  Here  was  the  '  spot  of 
his  origin,'  and  around  us  were  the  materials  from  which  he  drew  his  stores  of  instructive 
wit.  Therefore  we,  of  all  the  reading  public,  do  the  most  heartily  greet  his  reappearance. 
We  find  him  a  little  more  artistic  than  of  old,  more  advanced  in  grammar  and  orthography, 
but  withal  displaying  the  same  intimate  knowledge  of  Down  Eastdom,  and  retaining  the 
same  knack  of  genuine  Yankee  humor.  In  fact,  taking  all  things  together,  no  other 
writer  begins  to  equal  him  in  the  delineation  of  the  live  Yankee,  in  the  points  where  that 
individual  differs  from  all  the  '  rest  of  mankind.'  This  is  his  great  merit  as  an  author, 
and  one  which  the  progress  of  manners  will  still  further  heighten— for  it  is  only  in  some 
portions  of  our  own  State  that  the  real  Yankee  can  now  be  found. 

"  The  present  book  has  sixteen  chapters  devoted  to  home-stories.  They  are  racy  and 
humorous  to  a  high  degree."— Portland  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  It  is  now  generally  conceded  that  Seba  Smith  is  the  ablest,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
most  amusing  delineator  of  Yankee  life  who  has  hitherto  attempted  that  humorous  style 
of  writing— not  excepting  even  Judge  Haliburton  himself.  This  is  no  rash  expression,  for 
there  is  not  a  passage  in  '  Sam  Slick '  so  graphic,  funny  and  and  comical,  but  we  find 
equalled  if  not  surpassed  in  the  sensible  and  philosophic,  although  ludicrous  epistles,  of 
1  Major  Jack  Downing  '—epistles  of  which  we  defy  the  most  stupid  to  glance  at  a  para 
graph  without  reading  the  whole."— Philadelphia  News. 

"  This  is  a  book  of  real  Yankee  life,  giving  the  particulars  of  character  and  incidents  in 
New  England,  from  the  Pilgrim  fathers  and  their  generations,  Connecticut  Blue  Laws,  and 
the  civic  and  religious  rules,  customs,  &c.,  from  the  Nutmeg  State  away  down  East,  as  far 
as  Mr.  Jones  ever  thought  of  going.  It  is  a  very  laughable  affair,  and  every  family  in  all 
Yankeedom  will  enjoy  its  perusal."— Hingliam  (Mass.)  Journal. 

"  There  are  few  readers  who  do  not  desire  to  keep  up  an  acquaintance  with  the  original 
Major  Jack  Downing,  whose  peculiar  humor,  while  it  is  irresistible  in  its  effects,  is  nevei 
made  subservient  to  immorality.  But  these  stories  are  an  improvement  on  those  originally 
given  by  the  author,  as  they  are  illustrative  of  Yankee  life  and  character  in  the  good  old, 
times  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers."—  Christian  Advocate  and  Jowrnal. 

"  The  stories  are  the  most  humorous  in  the  whole  range  of  Yankee  literature,  full  of 
genuine  wit,  rare  appreciation  of  fun,  and  giving  an  insight  into  human  motive  whioh 
shows  the  close  observation  and  keen  relish  of  life,  of  a  good-humored  pliilosopher."— 
Saturday  Evening  Mail. 

"  A  charmingly  interesting  book,  this,  for  all  who  hail  from  Down  East,  or  who  like  to 
rtad  good  stories  of  home  life  among  the  Yankees."— Salem  Register 

13 


j.  c.  DERBY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THH    GREEN    MOUNTAIN    TRAVELLERS' 
ENTERTAINMENT. 

BY  JO  SI  AH   BARNES,    SEN. 
12mo.     $1.  , 

"  They  will  be  read  with  earnest  sympathy  and  heartfelt  approval  by  all  who  enjoy 
quiet  pictures  of  the  homely,  yet  often  charming  scenes  of  daily  life.  The  style  well 
befits  the  thoughts  expressed,  and  is  equally  simple  and  impressive.  We  have  found  in 
these  pages  better  than  a  '  traveler's  entertainment '—  one  which  will  mingle  with  the 
pleasant  recollections  of  a  home  fireside."— Providence  Daily  Post. 

"  If  any  of  our  friends  wish  to  get  hold  of  a  book  written  in  a  style  of  pure  and  beau 
tiful  English,  that  reminds  one  of  Irving  continually  ;  a  book  rich  with  inventions  of  the 
marvellous,  and  yet  abounding  in  sweet  humanities  and  delicate  philosophies — a  book 
that  will  not  tire  and  cannot  offend,  let  them  go  to  a  bookstore  and  buy  '  The  Old  Inn  ; 
or,  the  Travellers'  Entertainment,'  by  Josiah  Barnes,  Sen.  It  will  pay  the  leader  well.'' 
— SpringfieLd  (Mass.)  Republican. 

"It  should  be  praise  enough  to  say  that  the  author  reminds  one  occasionally  01 
Irving."— Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

"  Unless  we  err  greatly,  a  volume  so  markedly  original  in  its  outline  and  features  will 
attract  a  large  share  of  attention."— Boston  Evening  Gazette. 

"  This  is  a  very  pleasant  book.  The  plan  of  it,  if  not  new,  is  just  as  well  carried  out. 
'  Five  'r  six  'r  half-a-dozen  '  travellers  meet  at  an  indifferent  tavern  in  an  indifferent 
part  of  Vermont,  upon  a  seriously  unpleasant  day,  and  to  pass  away  the  dull  hours,  they 
fall  to  story-telling.  The  record  of  their  performances  in  that  behalf  is  made  up  into  the 
volume  '  above  entitled.'  So  agreeable  became  the  diversion  that  not  only  the  evening 
of  the  first  day,  but  as  the  following  morning  was  conveniently  stormy,  the  second  day 
is  consumed  in  similar  diversions.  Those  who  read  the  book  will  agree  with  us,  that  a 
stormy  --'ay  and  a  country  inn,  with  such  alleviation,  presents  no  very  great  hardship  to 
the  traveller,  unless  his  business  is  particularly  urgent.  We  commend  the  book  to  those 
<ho  like  a  irleasant  story,  pleasantly  told." — Budget,  Troy,  N.  Y. 
"  Under  the  above  title  we  have  several  interesting  stories  as  told  by  the  various  cha- 
tcters  at  tne  fireside  of  a  comfortable,  old-fashioned  inn,  to  while  away  the  long  hours 
r  storm,  bj*  which  they  were  detained  The  Little  Dry  Man's,  the  supposed  Lawyer's, 
ivid  the  Quaker's  stories  are  all  worth  listening  to.  They  are  well  told  and  entertain  the 
ft-jder." — Bangor  Journal. 

"  This  is  a  series  of  stories,  supposed  to  be  related  to  while  away  the  time,  in  an  old 
inn,  where  a  party  of  travellers  are  storm-stayed,  consisting  of  the  '  Little  Dry  Man's 
Story,'  the  '  Supposed  Lawyer's  Story,' '  Incidents  of  a  Day  at  the  Inn,'  the  'Quaker's 
Story,'  and  '  Ellen's  Grave.'  The  stories  are  well  told.  There  is  a  charming  simplicity 
in  the  author's  style — all  the  more  delightful,  because,  now-a-days, 'simplicity  of  lan 
guage  is  a  rarity  with  authors.  It  is  a  book  to  take  up  at  any  moment,  and  occupy  a 
leisure  hour — to  lay  aside,  %n<l  take  up  again  and  again.  We  commend  its  tone,  and 
the  object  of  the  author.  It  is  a  pleasant  companion  ou  a  country  journey."— .tf.  1 
Dispatch. 


j.  c.  DERBY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


"Bell's  sketches  are  instinct  with  life,  they  sparkle  with  brilliants,  are  gem 
med  with  wit,  and  address  themselves  to  almost  every  chord  of  the  human 
heart."— Louisville  (Ky.)  Bulletin. 


BELL    SMITH    ABROAD. 

A  Handsome  12mo.  volume.    Price  $1  00.    With  Illustrations  Ly  Ilealy, 
Walcutt,  and  Overarche. 

"  The  readers  of  the  Louisville  Journal  need  no  introduction  from  us  to  Bell  Smith. 
Her  own  brilliant  pen,  and  her  own  sparkling,  witching  and  delightful  style  have  so  often 
graced  the  columns  of  this  paper,  and  have  made  so  many  friends  and  admirers  for  her, 
that  we  need  say  but  little  toward  creating  a  demand  for  this  charming  volume.  But 
Borne  tribute  is  nevertheless  due  to  Bell  Smith  for  the  real  pleasure  she  has  imparted  in 
every  chapter  of  her  book,  and  that  tribute  we  cheerfully  pay.  Her  admirable  powers 
seem  so  much  at  home  in  every  variety  and  phase  of  life,  that  she  touches  no  subject 
without  making  it  sparkle  with  the  lights  of  her  genius."— Louisville  Journal. 

"  She  is  ever  piquant  in  her  remarks,  and  keen  from  observation ;  and  the  result  ia 
that  her  '  Abroad'  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  collections  of  incident  and  comment,  fun 
and  pathos,  seriousness  and  gossip,  which  has  ever  fallen  under  our  notice."— Boston 
Evening  Traveller. 

"  It  is  dashing  and  vigorous  without  coarseness — animated  with  a  genial  humor — 
showing  acute  and  delicate  perceptions— and  sustained  by  a  bracing  infusion  of  common 
sense."— N.  Y.  Tribune. 

"There  are  many  delicate  strokes,  and  not  a  little  of  that  vivacity  of  description 
which  entertains.  The  author  shows  her  best  side  when  matters  of  home-feeling  and 
affection  engage  her  pen." — N.  T.  Evangelist. 

"  History,  art  and  personal  narrative  are  alike  imprinted  in  your  memory  by  the  asso 
ciations  of  anecdote,  merry  and  grave,  and  you  feel  that  you  are  listening  to  the  magical 
voice  of '  Bell  Smith'  at  home.  Such  volumes  enrich  and  honor  American  literature." — 
Philadelphia  Merchant. 

"  This  is  a  capital  book  ;  full  of  life,  spirit,  vivacity  and  information— thoroughly  lady 
like,  and  telling  precisely  what  everybody  wants  to  hear,  so  far  as  the  author  knows."— 
Salem  Gazette. 

"  Spirited  and  artistic !  Bell  Smith  sparkles,  and  dashes  on,  amusing  and  interesting. 
A  capital  book  for  a  leisure  hour  or  railroad  travel,  or  for  those  seasons  when  you  want 
to  be  pleased  without  effort."—  Cleveland  Leader. 

"  We  like  Bell  Smith  and  Bell  Smith's  book.  A  lively,  free,  dashing  style,  she  talks 
en,  and  nothing  is  wanting  but  the  merry  laugh  we  know  she  is  owner  of  to  make  us 
ihink  we  are  listening  to  a  very  interesting  woman."— Chicago  Journal. 

"  Lively,  gossiping,  chatting,  witty,  sparkling  Bell  Smith,  we  must  confess  your  book 
has  quite  enchanted  us."— N.  Y.  Day  Book. 

"  In  freshness,  piquancy,  and  delightful  episodes,  illustrative  of  foreign  life  and  man 
ners,  they  have  rarely  been  equalled."— National  Era. 


J.    C.    DERBY  S    PUBLICATIONS. 


EXTRAORDINARY     PUBLICATIONS 


MY    COURTSHIP   AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES, 

BY  HENRY    WIKOFF. 

A  true  account  of  the  Author's  Adventures  in  England,  Switzerland,  and 
Italy,  with  Miss  J.  C.  Gamble,  of  Portland  Place,  London.  1  elegant 
12mo.  Price,  in  cloth,  $1  25. 

The  extraordinary  sensation  produced  in  literary  circles  by  Mr.  Wikoff's  charming 
romance  of  real  life,  is  exhausting  edition  after  edition  of  his  wonderful  book.  From 
lengthy  reviews,  among  several  hundred  received,  we  extract  the  following  brief  notices 
of  the  press : 

"  We  prefer  commending  the  book  as  beyond  question  the  most  amusing  of  the  season, 
and  we  commend  it  without  hesitation,  because  the  moral  is  an  excellent  one." — Albion. 

"  With  unparalleled  candor  he  has  here  unfolded  the  particulars  of  the  intrigue,  taking 
the  whole  world  into  his  confidence — '  bearing  his  heart  on  his  sleeve  for  daws  to  peck 
at' — and,  in  the  dearth  of  public  amusements,  presenting  a  piquant  nine  days'  wonder 
for  the  recreation  of  society."—^.  Y.  Tribune. 

"  The  work  is  very  amusing,  and  it  is  written  in  such  a  vein  that  one  cannot  refrain 
from  frequent  bursts  of  laughter,  even  when  the  Chevalier  is  in  positions  which  might 
claim  one's  sympathy."— Boston  Evening  Gazette. 

"  A  positive  autobiography,  by  a  man  of  acknowledged  fashion,  and  an  associate  of 
nobles  and  princes,  telling  truly  how  he  courted  and  was  coquetted  by  an  heiress  in  high 
life,  is  likely  to  be  as  popular  a  singularity  in  the  way  of  literature  as  could  well  be  thought 
of." — Home  Journal. 

"  The  ladies  are  sure  to  devour  it.  It  is  better  and  more  exciting  than  any  modern 
romance,  as  it  is  a  detail  of  facts,  and  every  page  proves  conclusively  that  the  plain, 
unvarnished  tale  of  truth  is  often  stranger  than  fiction."— Baltimore  Dispatch. 

"  The  book,  therefore,  has  all  the  attractions  of  a  tilt  of  knight-errants — with  this  addi 
tion,  that  one  of  the  combatants  is  a  woman — a  species  of  heart-endowed  Amazon." — 

Newark  Daily  Mercury. 
» 

"  If  you  read  the  first  chapter  of  the  volume,  you  are  in  for  '  finis,'  and  can  no  more 

stop  without  the  consent  of  your  will  than  the  train  of  cars  can  stop  without  the  consent 
of  the  engine." — Worcester  Palladium. 

"  Seriously,  there  is  not  so  original,  piquant  and  singular  a  book  in  American  literature 
its  author  is  a  sort  of  cross  between  Fielding,  Chesterfield,  and  Rochefoucault." — Boston 
Chronicle. 

"  With  the  exception  of  Rosseau's  Confessions,  we  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  heard 
of  any  such  self-anatomization  of  love  and  the  lover." — N.  Y.  Eaypre*8. 

"  The  book  has  cost  us  a  couple  of  nights'  sleep ;  and  we  have  no  doubt  it  has  cost  its 
author  and  principal  subject  a  good  many  more." — N.  Y.  Evening  Mirror. 

"  The  work  possesses  all  the  charm  and  fascination  of  a  continuous  romance."— JY".  Y. 
Journal  of  Commerce. 


j.  c.  DERBY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


"IT  IS  A  LOVE  TALE  OF  THE  MOST  ENTRANCING  KIND." 

Boston  Daily  Traveller. 
'WHO  IS  THE  AUTHOR?    WE  GUESS  A  LADY."-^.  Y.  Life  Illustrated. 


ISORA'S       CHILD. 

1  large  12mo.  volume.    Price  $1  25. 

"  It  is  one  of  those  few  books  of  its  class  that  we  have  read  quite  through — for  we  found 
it  to  have  the  requisites  of  a  good  book,  namely,  the  power  of  entertaining  the  reader  to 
the  end  of  the  volume.  The  story  is  not  complex,  but  is  naturally  told  ;  the  characters 
are  drawn  with  sharp  delineation  and  the  dialogue  is  spirited.  It  is  something  to  add,  in 
the  present  deluge  of  bad\>ooks  with  pleasant  names,  both  the  morals  and  '  the  moral '  of 
the  work  are  unexceptionable.  It  is  understood  to  be  the  production  of  a  lady  whose 
name  is  not  unknown  to  the  reading  public  ;  and  we  congratulate  her  on  the  increase  of 
reputation  which  '  ISORA'S  CHILD  '  will  bring  her  when  her  present  incognito  shall  be 
removed." — Burlington  (Vt.)  Sentinel. 

"  This  book  starts  off  with  its  chapter  first,  and  introduces  the  reader  at  once  to  the  , 
heroes  and  incidents  of  the  really  charming  story.  He  will  speedily  find  himself  interested 
as  well  by  the  graceful  style  and  the  skill  with  which  the  different  scenes  are  arranged, 
as  by  the  beauty  of  the  two  principal  characters,  and  the  lessons  of  loving  faith,  hope,  and 
patience,  which  will  meet  him  at  the  turning  of  almost  every  leaf.  This  is  one  of  the  best 
productions  of  its  kind  that  has  been  issued  this  season,  and  promises  to  meet  With 
warm  approval  and  abundant  success." — Detroit  Daily  Democrat. 

"  Another  anonymous  novel,  and  a  successful  one.  There  is  more  boldness  and  origi 
nality  both  in  its  conception  and  in  its  execution  than  in  almost  any  work  of  fiction  we 
have  lately  read.  Its  characters  are  few,  well  delineated,  and  consistently  managed. 
There  is  no  crowding  and  consequent  confusion  among  the  dramatis  personce.  Thera 
are  two  heroines,  however,  Flora  and  Cora,  both  bewitching  creatures,  and,  what  i? 
better,  uoble,  true-hearted  women,  especially  the  former,  Isora's  child — the  dark-eyed  and 
passionate,  but  sensitive,  tender,  and  loving  daughter  of  Italy.  The  work  will  make  its 
mark.  Who  is  the  author?  We  guess  a  lady,  and  that  this  is  her  first  book."—  Weekly 
Life  Illustrated. 

"Its  incidents  are  novel  and  effectively  managed;  and  its  style  possesses  both  earnest 
vigor  and  depth  of  pathos,  relieved  by  occasional  flashes  of  a  pleasing  and  genial  humor. 
Among  the  crowd  of  trashy  publications  now  issued  from  the  press,  a  work  as  true  to 
nature,  and  as  elevated  and  just  in  its  conceptions  of  the  purposes  of  life,  as  this  is,  is  all 
the  more  welcome  because  it  is  so  rare.  We  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  as  popular  as  it  ig 
interesting." — Albany  Evening  Journal. 

"  We  have  seldom  perused  a  work  of  fiction  that  gave  us  more  real  pleasure  than 
this.  From  first  to  last  page,  it  enchains  the  attention,  and  carries  your  sympathies 
along  with  the  fortunes  of  the  heroine.  The  descriptive  powers  of  the  unknown  authoress 
are  of  the  loftiest  order,  and  cannot  fail  of  placing  her  in  the  first  ranks  of  authorship.', 
—  Cincinnati  Daily  Sun. 

"  A  story  which  perpetually  keeps  curiosity  on  the  alert,  and  as  perpetually  baffles  ft 
till  it  reaches  its  denotement,  is  certainly  a  good  one."— Buffalo  Commercial  Advertiser. 


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